oh i'll do it tomorrow- (today.)

i had planned a glorious saga of PEN & M but what i got was like 2 days of ill sleep and a maudlin attitude about my life, my weight, watching excema break out on my hands and toes, wondering if i’ll get hired back or if they hate the fact i work thru lunch but won’t tell me and so just prefer to fire me or not hire me back come the end of september- i imagine never finding a job again. i think about entering an art fair and no one coming to buy my pieces, no one having a kind word to say, never writing the greatest Californian Novel, dying sad and and obscure without a husband to mourn my loss or kids to send to therapy, i imagine my animals dying... i think this world sucks. my life sucks. and then i’m like woh, what the fuck. slow down. you’re doing yoga again, eating right again, treadmilling like a hamster- can you have like retro-active doldrums or as stewart on madTv says “dark places” ... why is the devil trying to keep me down? or is it the diet coke? or maybe the sandanistas... or what exactly sucks me over to the dark side when everything is going right?