with Customer Service
Does it even matter with whom? It should matter that it’s
with someone to whom I’ve forked over thousands of dollars
in many decades and yet since May I’ve been blocked from receiving
normal services. I even have an old acquaintance, a local one, who
worked for them as an attorney for several years, and given that I’ve
been so clearly upset and wronged by the way they have treated me
since this bizarre suspension for violating a rule but i do not know
exactly how or when or whether it was even me or whether i’m
simply being given the runaround. yesterday was a particularly
productive day in which my mood stayed where it needed to be
to accomplish mush under really poor circumstances, those
being mostly financially, something that continues to really
bring me down given that i have 30 years of experience
in a well-paying career in which i have fond it impossible
to get a full-time permanent position in far too long, causing
my quality of life to greatly decrease, mostly because i was
kicked to the curb by someone i trusted for around a dozen
years as a domestic partner. Maybe all of this is neither here
nor there, but this is just to say that I have completed two very
anxiety-riddled calls with people with whom I have a monthly
paid account. Oh, whatever. I have more calls to make soon.
I’ve got a therapy call at 1pm. And at 1:30pm I have my quarterly
CalFRESH call. And I have to speak with my immigration attorney
at some point today, which, well, if you happen to know where I live
and what moment this is in history and the fact that I’m trying to get
a 5-year fiance to the states to be with me so that we can be together
and he can go to school year. And I’m broke. And it will be at least a
year before he gets here once I’m able to turn in the fiance visa application,
if I can afford the $700 plus the $400 attorney fee. Oh, I sound a mess. But
when one is a mess one does sound a mess. Anxiety has gotten the best of me
this morning, but I think I can correct that. And I must. There is too much to do.
Way too much to do. For example, how can I salvage these silly and frustrating
words into any kind of thing I call a poem. Well, voila, you’re a poem. So be it.
Today’s. There, solved that problem. Of course I didn’t. And for that I really
apologize. I had a bit of an arc of a storyline going that sort of came to an abrupt
halt, and for that I do apologize once again. Am I an artist or just a guy trying to
make a life for myself in a world that seems to be losing me with each breath I
try to inhale? Oh, this cannot be salvaged. Let it just be called notes. Which is
at times a fine way to splay out a piece that one might also call a poem. I try at
least to convince myself. Onward. Onward. Apologies. Hello.
with someone to whom I’ve forked over thousands of dollars
in many decades and yet since May I’ve been blocked from receiving
normal services. I even have an old acquaintance, a local one, who
worked for them as an attorney for several years, and given that I’ve
been so clearly upset and wronged by the way they have treated me
since this bizarre suspension for violating a rule but i do not know
exactly how or when or whether it was even me or whether i’m
simply being given the runaround. yesterday was a particularly
productive day in which my mood stayed where it needed to be
to accomplish mush under really poor circumstances, those
being mostly financially, something that continues to really
bring me down given that i have 30 years of experience
in a well-paying career in which i have fond it impossible
to get a full-time permanent position in far too long, causing
my quality of life to greatly decrease, mostly because i was
kicked to the curb by someone i trusted for around a dozen
years as a domestic partner. Maybe all of this is neither here
nor there, but this is just to say that I have completed two very
anxiety-riddled calls with people with whom I have a monthly
paid account. Oh, whatever. I have more calls to make soon.
I’ve got a therapy call at 1pm. And at 1:30pm I have my quarterly
CalFRESH call. And I have to speak with my immigration attorney
at some point today, which, well, if you happen to know where I live
and what moment this is in history and the fact that I’m trying to get
a 5-year fiance to the states to be with me so that we can be together
and he can go to school year. And I’m broke. And it will be at least a
year before he gets here once I’m able to turn in the fiance visa application,
if I can afford the $700 plus the $400 attorney fee. Oh, I sound a mess. But
when one is a mess one does sound a mess. Anxiety has gotten the best of me
this morning, but I think I can correct that. And I must. There is too much to do.
Way too much to do. For example, how can I salvage these silly and frustrating
words into any kind of thing I call a poem. Well, voila, you’re a poem. So be it.
Today’s. There, solved that problem. Of course I didn’t. And for that I really
apologize. I had a bit of an arc of a storyline going that sort of came to an abrupt
halt, and for that I do apologize once again. Am I an artist or just a guy trying to
make a life for myself in a world that seems to be losing me with each breath I
try to inhale? Oh, this cannot be salvaged. Let it just be called notes. Which is
at times a fine way to splay out a piece that one might also call a poem. I try at
least to convince myself. Onward. Onward. Apologies. Hello.
Unhinged is Terribly Unflattering and Not Very Much of an Art Form
