Many a Just Word

Many a Just Word
21.07.14 (Day 211)
09.42
Sometimes this place becomes a microcosm of the world outside and today is a case in point.
Tomorrow I get a (fairly) regular financial payment. Until then and for the last few days, things have been a bit tight to say the least. Tight is something I can’t be accused of, sharing whatever I have as I do: baccy, food and money needed to just keep the place running. If I were on my own, the available resources would be plenty to keep me alone going. But I’m not alone and I don’t want to be, so therefore I share. When things run out though, I appreciate a bit of help and given that I find it hard to get out, I have to ask others. It’s a symbiotic relationship, where I don’t mind providing, provided I can sometimes ask for payback.
For the last few days we’ve been trying to raise some cash to bridge a gap until tomorrow when some money comes in. It should have been an easy task and one which I’d have undertaken myself if I were able to get out.
We needed a modest sum and I’d offered tangible collateral in the form of my netbook. So it was either a sale-or-return deal for a very good price or a bridging loan with security worth far in excess of the finance required. An easy job for a seller and no risk for a creditor. For various reasons that even I can’t explain, that didn’t happen.
Come yesterday, the gap to be bridged had become smaller and a very small amount of cash was required to tide us over. If it were just me, it wouldn’t be a problem but therein lies the problem as I have to rely on others. It would seem that reliance was misplaced as the required funds were still not forthcoming, despite best efforts which were obviously inadequate.
I have been bemoaning the situation verbally and at rather a high volume. Word has got out and now I’m in receipt of some rather choice words because I’ve been speaking my mind. I thought this sort of thing only went on outside but tendrils have crept in. In any case, I have pieces to pick up and stick back together.
If my words of frustration have been misconstrued then so be it. I’m frustrated because I can’t talk, even though me having done so seems to be a problem. I can’t get out, I can’t contact anyone and I can’t reply to messages as I’m out of phone credit, again.
So I have to wait for them to come to me to get this little thing sorted out. I shall never speak ill of anyone behind their back and not be prepared to say the same to their face.
I lost The Dog last night as he was off trying to raise the funds we need. He promised. I bemoaned the situation and some things have been lost in translation too.
Now I’m a bit stuck. No phone credit to reply to texts, call anyone or use social media. And I can’t go out (even if I wanted to but sometimes needs must) because The Dog’s not here. But I’d only be going out to buy the things we need with the money he was getting because I can’t go out without him here. But he’s not here because he’s been out trying to get the money…
And so it goes on: recursion.
So I sit in the hope that someone calls, as I can’t call anyone until tomorrow but I need the money to make calls, send texts and use social media today, so that we can get money to tide us over until tomorrow. No quite sure why I’m so frustrated, much.
If and when The Dog returns, I need to find out what’s been said that I’ve said or not said, why I’m hearing things that I’ve said and not said and to say again what I’ve already said, to him about him and about him to him. Find out who said what to whom. Then do some ironing.
As soon as he stops wandering, I’ll stop wondering. But he’s out there and I’m in here, as this place dictates. And the longer he’s out there, the more he’ll wonder; the longer I’m in here, the more my mind will wander.
I need my Dog back.
Spoken in truth.

12.42
Bored and lonely but also happy in my own company, with time to think; as I have been. Then Someone Else arrived upon the scene, so I got busy.
I’ve cleaned and tidied my end of the place at least. I’ve rescued our cooking hob and made a foot square kitchen next to the sofa. As soon as the money comes in tomorrow, after I’ve topped up the phone, I’m going shopping. That money is my money to manage and I can. Bread, butter and bacon are top of the list. I have something to cook on; I just need something to cook in and with, as those went when we condemned what used to be the kitchen.
So now it’s all in here: self-sufficient but I know I’ll provide for others and the cycle will start again. Others: some of whom are responsible for the kitchen now being not a kitchen and living room being an oxymoronic term. So those that wrecked my home will still come to the one remaining room that I’ve managed to retain and will  continue to be provided for.
There is a sign that I’ve made for my door though: “Fuck off”, or words to that effect. They’re welcome but sometimes I need an escape and I’ve been building while they were wrecking.
Sometimes I need a nap. I get little sleep. Last night was a case in point, when I sat up until 3am waiting for The Dog, who didn’t show. He still doesn’t have a phone. I was up again four hours later. The clingy thingy on my arm had worked loose and I never did get it sorted. I can’t call to it but I know it’s still there somewhere. It’s having to give its dog away, so now I can call neither. So close but so far apart.
Spoken in metaphor and slang, which I understand and some others do too.
831

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