Two freelance gigs, longstanding, regular, freelance gigs, folded on me today. I mean, no, they didn’t fold on me, but rather they folded rather completely. On everyone involved. As in kaput. As in this gig and this gig cease to exist anymore. Nothing personal (which I don’t take as such). And not connected to one another. But, that’s okay. Change is in the air in the literary world, as it usually is every so often, and that just means I need to make room for new stuff. That said, it is rather unforch. But, you know me, I always cook up a plan to make things work out. I always do.

So, I’m doing what any reasonable person would. I’m getting shitfaced with my cat. Just kidding. No, I’m giving my apartment a deep cleaning and getting lost in my head for a couple of hours listening to Siouxie & The Banshees, a little David Byrne, a little Stray Cats, a little Buzzcocks, a little Bolshoi, a little Depeche Mode and a little of Korngold’s Die tote Stadt and figuring out exactly what my next move is.

I was talking to my friend, Irish Ho, just today, before all of this, about the two kinds of people in the world: People who are happy; though they can be sad sometimes, and be pissed off and angry sometimes as situations come up, and they still can recognize their lives as being positive for the most part… and People who are completely unhappy. I pick “a”. I really do, if you’ll pardon the Pollyanna shit. I really try not to get thrown. I really try to just take things as they come and keep moving. I don’t always succeed, but I try, and I guess that matters. Weird shit happens, funny shit happens, sometimes really horrible shit happens, life happens, plans derail, people flake, people die, keys get lost, jobs vanish overnight and sometimes it feels like we’re struggling just to float through the day and it’s always something. But, it’s usually okay, even when it’s not.

So, we’ll see what’s around the bend, huh?

In the meantime, duck and weave, Guth, duck and weave.

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