The Rite of First Rejection

I know I have nothing to say about myself lest it detracts from the work.

In a world where everything format matters the thing arrives in a format, I would never have given my blessing.

Now the bots send back a reply with a condescending tone.

Better to make big mistakes and get them over with. Rip the bandage off instead of being tortured by the inevitable.

***

There is a cat. He’s big and rough-looking and wants to be friends. Who did that to him? I don’t want a new cat, especially not a feral cat who actually wants to like me. Hubbin says “If you feed it he’s yours.” Gibson rolls on his back with his belly to the sky and says “that Dude is my Bestie.” Freeloader was one thing she had no chance of survival elsewhere. This guy is now “Eubie” not as in Blake but as in “You Belong somewhere else.” He’s one of those white oversized cow cat beasts. I don’t want one.

***

Somebody who lived just up the road, a woman I’d known since high school “left the world” on April 1st. I’m sorting that out. They call it a house fire. No, her house fucking blew up and took her mate and her with it. She had just found out she didn’t have cancer. The story wasn’t supposed to be done. I don’t want to ignore it because she deserves at least that but when I hear “sorry for your loss” my brain doesn’t know what to do. It’s not my loss. It’s her kid’s loss, the community’s loss, it’s her loss. My life is just a beautiful and ordinary as ever, even as the world can’t seem to get its collective finger out of its butt on the subject of the pandemic. This is not my first rodeo. You’d think I’d get a little better at this stuff, You’d think after my years at Argle Bargle where people died just as regularly as (not because) we changed smoke detector batteries (irony) I’d have gotten a better handle on my emotional Tourettes.

***

I confess I have been deflecting by plugging away at a list of inevitable bullcrap things on the to-do list that makes Hubbin and the boys happy. Those things regenerate as fast as you can check them off the list. It’s dumb stuff like the cancellation notice on the insurance that arrives with a refund check for the payment I sent. Why canceled? The landlord policies were paid so they ignored that it was for my homeowners, then they charged me a fee for being late and sent me a refund check for the exact amount with the cancellation notice. My left eye starts to throb and Hubbin takes the paper away from me. I can handle these things. I’ve handled them for a very long time. He says “go work on your book” and wants me to go talk to a counselor at the University. I’m looking at the calls for submissions and keep getting stopped at the part where I’m supposed to tell people who I am. Suggested inclusions “express who you are” and “claim your name” but not if who you “aren’t” not if you just did the ordinary things and kept to yourself. Can’t the work just live a life of its own? Do I have to tell the world a bunch of things about myself that have nothing to do with what’s going on in my head?