Now I am travelling between sheer rock faces on my little ship as the waters quicken and the channel narrows
August 28, 2016 §
Now I am travelling between sheer rock faces, on my little ship, as the waters quicken and the channel narrows. It seems that I must be dashed against the rocks or the walls, but this time the narrowing is caused by financial pressure. I am being squeezed to death like Princess Leia and Luke in the Death Star. I seriously give consideration to ending my affair with —–, to return home to mother for a year or two, to relieve the financial pressure and float my boat again. I am taking on water faster than I can bail it out. Something has to give. I dream of a magic solution, a way out of my predicament, with one bound I am free, Fantomas-style. Getting published, rich and famous; living alone again in a small studio flat; returning to mother’s for a year or so; moving to —–. Most of the options revolve around me being single. The cost to my soul and heart of that are quite difficult to imagine or quantify. I fought so long and hard to get the one woman in the universe I could love, so to consider letting her go to save money is quite hard to get my head around. But I feel locked in a vice, that is getting tighter and tighter and tighter. I have achieved one impossible dream in getting —– —me, the biggest loner in the world, the man most incapable of love or any human relationship because of his crippling shyness, gets —–, the woman everyone wants. Now I seek the second impossible dream—getting published, and earning money from my writings. Only by achieving this second impossible dream can I hold onto the first, I think. If not, my only way out of this impasse is to be single again. All great artists suffered crippling debts while trying to work, Wilde, Byron, Grimshaw. I tell myself not to give up, but to let —– go would improve my finances at a stroke. Then I would be free to miss her for the rest of my life.