a place of my own...4

back deck made orderly

I wish I had a place of my own! Anywhere...Sicily, England, California, Arkansas? The advent of winter, the slant of light, a melencholia in the air--removing my plants from the back deck--major worries of shitty-icy roads this winter, (the last two years in a row I've spun off the Interstate, over the edge in my truck, and had to be pulled out by AAA) these things, other things, make me feel tired. A feeling, really overpowering at times, that I don't know where to be.

I'm into seven years here, in Illinois, out of California. Nothing robust or genuinely fun or interesting about my life here, I've only seen one of my five granchildren face to face (Cate), the other four born in my exile. My kids, Lauren and Matthew, rightfully busy with their own lives, parents themselves, don't email, don't phone, don't initiate contact, don't read this blog, don't see my many, many photos on my Flickr site, don't initiate web chat, don't send birthday cards (like that matters). My peculiar loneliness, my house-mate Jim, laconic, immobile, unwilling, exclusive, annoyed by me...I've asked Lowe's to schedule me for weekend work, every weekend because Jim is often off work on weekends; a way to avoid the tediousness of this difficult cohabitation. Sometimes I regret or dread my time off work, as to work, to get out of the house makes me out in the world, interacting with other human beings.

The emotional shuffle is the isolation of living alone versus the "different" isolation of living in someone else's place. I think I lived on the beach in Oxnard for eight years alone; so it's not impossible, strangers can become friends. Money is a problem. For instance, the "little surgery" to remove a squamous cell lesion on my forehead, about $300 in California, cost $2440 here at Trinity; after my insurance payment, I owe $900...I'm not sure what to do....being solvent, paying my bills, leaves very little for trips to California to see kids and grandkids. Moving on to a place of my own becomes, at this point in my life, only wishful thinking. Moving to California...well, that's a fantasy.

Lauren is running in some sort of San Francisco Marathon on Sunday; she hurt one of her toes the other day and says she still thinks she can run; the next day, Lauren and the family are flying off to Orlando for a Rosenbaum reunion at DisneyWorld. I'm not sure what Matt's doing these days. He phones me from his car cell phone about every two or three months, aside from that, hard to hear, no news is good news.

Bad mood? I'm thinking of dropping out...more...maybe just stop web chat with Lauren. See what happens then? Painting in the studio for her, not great, maybe ready by Christmas.

Matt, Lauren, if you read this, leave a comment--just click on the little "comments" button below, surprise me!