I really should, because I have little reason to be here (teaching Engrishii). Tina's gone, building a life that doesn't include me in any way. She was the main reason I re-injected myself into the local ESL community. She's been gone from my life for two years now. These days I have little time for anything else that doesn't involve the office. I'm not an efficient office worker bee, but there are only so many things I can do to streamline my routine.

But art on these Islands simply doesn't pay. Not in the amounts you need in the time you need those amounts. Even whoring ain't as good as it used to be, to judge by the number of streetwalkers roaming farther and farther from their traditional haunts in the city.

This is why I and hyperdex aren't hanging photos up in a physical gallery. You'll recall he and I had a good run together as video editing guys. He's a powerful photographer and he was always the better video man. He's also good with your model kits. (Stop by [link] and [link] to see this for yourselves).

Wasn't so long ago when we were idealistic kids. Now we're both fat hypertensive old men, the difference between us being "Hyperdex is married." (and "he's taking different medication.")

I digress. My point is that I was losing hope in the power of Love or Art to emancipate us. There, I said it. (Gasp! Blasphemy!) Don't get me wrong: the core of me still believes in it. But when you've been wandering more than your 40 metaphorical years in the desert of your existential uncertainty, you start to wonder about when you're supposed to enter the promised land. Indeed, you start to wonder if wandering is all you're destined to do.

Still, moments of serendipity hint that someOne is looking out for me: just enough money comes into my hands, out of the blue, to take me out of one frustrating crisis. Just enough to tide me over and into... the next frustrating crisis. I am very thankful, and much awed at the subtlety of these little interventions. But I am sorely vexed at "just enough" when all my attempts to produce a surplus meet with failure (as they must, since most of my time and my talents are slaved to office-related work).

Just enough is NOT enough when I have no one to share my heart with. I should at least be rich. Not Donald Trump rich, but rich enough to afford a trip to Bali and back in reasonable comfort when I need a place to hide from the world and cry like a girly man because Tina is not with me.



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About Me:
Messages and Manifestos: On Art:
Work Edifies
Marketing, Politics, Man in the Mirror
Did anyone ever tell you that I dislike poetry?
I'm a Designer
Why Dex Faves (personal stuff here too)
Messages and Manifestos: Personal: On Love
On Love
After All It's Done to You, Why?
Messages and Manifestos: Personal: For Tina, For Tishie
I have a grand daughter
14 (Again, for Tin)
When is Enough, well, Enough?
To the Monastery, Jeeves
14 (for Tin)
for Tina