gateau, and eat it too

Besides trying to subsist on the fairly modest sum the government gives me every month to pay for, well, the whole enchilada, I have been working a few paltry hours over this past summer, attempting to bolster my poverty-level existence to something manageable. Measuring what I’m physically, emotionally and mentally capable of against what is actually available has been a tricky game, what between medications, threats to my body’s health, and the fact of a global recession.

Thankfully, these concerns seem to be evening out as we roll into Fall.

I am working more. I am reading more. My health is, as they say, tip-top. I am also on new drugs for my crazy, which is something that, thus far,  pleases me to no end. (This change of medication may or may not have something to do with me blogging again. We’ll have to see.)

Though my life, by its very nature, follows the erratic line of a jagged horizon—peaks and valleys from one end to the other—I do not despair: I pray. I pray that every time I hit a precipice where I can see it all laid out beneath me, and every distance between beginning and end looks a manageable traverse, something I can affect without a momentous amount of energy and/or support; and the goblins and the fairies keep their distance; and my horse is calm, not untenably psychotic; then I ask for what only seems reasonable: a little more time in that place to enjoy the much adored clarity, where motivation is effortless.

That, and a piece of chocolate cake balanced on the abdomen of a heart-breakingly beautiful boy. Who isn’t wearing clothes.

It’s not, at the end of the day, that much to ask.

Except that I’d like the cake a la mode.


~ by A Mundi on September 26, 2009.

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