The Bloody Doors Off

The light
Begin to bleed
Begin to breathe
Begin to speak
D’you know what?
I love you better now

I am falling
Like a stone
Like a storm
Being born again
Into the sweet morning fog

D’you know what?
I love you better now

I’m falling
And I’d love to hold you now
I’ll kiss the ground
I’ll tell my mother
I’ll tell my father
I’ll tell my loved one
I’ll tell my brothers
How much I love them

The Morning Fog, Kate Bush

I’ve been stuck on this for half an hour.

What to talk about.

Like my short plays, I seem to be running out of ideas.

Trying not to repeat myself.

I need inspiration.

Between the teeth and the scam.

I’m struggling to catch my breath.

Metaphorically.

I can’t even find a proper ending to this post.

Whelp.

I ain’t shit-canned.

They said they think of me as part of the family.

Which was awesome to hear.

They recommended I inform MasterCard, and file a fraud claim..

For those keeping track, I’ve reported to the credit card company (who won’t open a dispute because I’m the one who bought the fucking cards), and initiated a report with Toronto Police Service.

In other news, the left side of my teeth have been professionally cleaned (the right side happens on Thursday). Yes, I’m a wuss. I got freezing done.

Life goes on.

Woke up before 5:30am to the sound of a cat puking up a hairball.

This is a metaphor for my day.

I’m in the dentist chair this morning.

And probably seeing a contract terminated this afternoon.

I’m just glad last night’s Sing For Your Supper went so well.

I think Marlo and I are starting to hit a groove with hosting/producing.

Things can be improved.

Things can always be improved.

But it was far less awkward than when we started back in May.

It’s good to enjoy the little victories.

To be honest, I wish they were pulling teeth today.

Waiting until August is gonna weigh on me.

We’re planning to spend a week at a cottage in August.

Just after.

It seems so far away.

You remember how you couldn’t wait until Christmas morning?

The anticipation of what you’ll find under the tree?

How you couldn’t sleep the night before, even though if you didn’t, “Santa won’t stop at the house”?

“All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth…”

Well, that’s not gonna happen.

Looks like I’ve got coal in my stocking this morning.

I miss fish & chips.

Lemme be specific.

I miss fish & chips from Pumperknickle’s at BCE Place, every Friday at lunch.

I miss going into an office.

Riding the streetcar from the Loop to Bay and King.

Passing Klaus! (since closed) and Neinkamper just after Parliament. I had funny voices in my head when I would approach those stores (near as I could tell, it was furniture and lighting).

One of the drawbacks from working at home. Where I’m normally making a grilled cheese for lunch.

3 slices. Grilled.

Decadent.

There are pluses.

I roll out of bed and I’m at my office.

Unlimited coffee.

I can run laundry during the day.

But I’d trade it all for a full-time job/contract back in the Financial District.

Of course, July looks to be busy.

I’m sure I said the same thing about June.

This time I mean it.

Provided I don’t get fired off of one of my contracts tomorrow.

I have no reason to believe this is the case.

But you know what they say. Shit happens in 3s.

Scammed.

Teeth.

???

Yeah, gonna be sweating this one for the next 18 hours.

Dawn breaks, there is blue in the sky
Your face before me
Though I don’t know why
Thoughts disappearing like tears from the Moon

Waiting here, as I sit by the stone
They came before me
Those men from the Sun
Signs from the heavens say I am the one

Now you’re here, I can see your light
This light that I must follow
You, you may take my life away, so far away
Now I know I must leave your spell
I want tomorrow

I Want Tomorrow, Enya

Nothing cryptic.

I’m back in the dentist chair Tuesday.

To see the dental hygienist.

Although they initially told me that would be step 2.

After the teeth pulling.

Still.

Have I mentioned how much I hate the dentist?

Not hate.

Scared.

I can’t stand the noise of the drill.

I hate getting frozen.

The one time I was fine at the dentist office, is when they sedated me to take out my wisdom teeth.

Which Dr. Sugarman says she can’t do this time around.

Because of the medications I’m on.

She’s not an anesthesiologist.

Which is fair.

Hopefully the laughing gas will calm me..

Ugh. Chills just thinking about them pulling a tooth.

This is, in part, why my teeth are so messed up.

The other 90% is my own damned fault.

Of course, being freelance means I have no dental coverage.

So this is all out-of-pocket.

Which I’d be in better shape if I hadn’t just gotten scammed.

When it rains, it pours.

So I’m watching one of those Consumer Cellular commercials just now.

And I realize.

I’m their targeted demographic.

A discount cell phone provider (who I think is only available in the U.S. anyway) is targeting me.

Okay.

My age range.

Still.

Which then reminds me, I’ll be turning 55 in October.

Kevin and Wayne both retired at 55. Wayne and Donna moved to Alberta to be with the kids and grandkids.

Kevin plays golf 4 times a week (conservative guess).

My point is.

I’m never gonna be able to retire.

I have a modest (tiny) pension with CIBC World Markets. It was supposed to be my career trajectory. Move up in the company, maybe manage the Desktop Publishing department.

Getting laid off in 2008, not the best time.

It did lead me to a new company, but that only lasted four years.

And I’ve been freelancing ever since.

Some years as a freelancer were good.

Some. Not so much.

I came so close to landing a full-time job this spring. It was between me and one other candidate.

I got the “he’s a better fit of us” talk.

And weeks later, they’re using me as a freelancer.

(Yes, I wonder if this was their plan, all along. Not that the work I’m doing now would be considered full-time.)

My point is.

I can’t afford to retire.

I’m gonna work until either I die, or am physically incapable.

That shit’s depressing.

And we still need to make out our wills.

Not that I have much to pass on. But I sure as hell don’t want the government to get their mitts on it.

And now I’m depressed.

Way to go, Koster.

Got another scam email today.

I wasn’t the only one.

Clearly the account had been hacked and sent out to everyone on her address list.

Really obvious too.

Especially with Happy [Day of the Week]! in the subject headline.

Wish the last one was as recognizable.

I was tempted to fuck with them.

You know.

Payback.

Like when air duct cleaning services call, and I tell them I have no ducts to clean, only geese.

But I got smart.

Again, wish I’d gotten smart the first time.

I’ve shouldered.

A lot.

This week.

But that.

That’s my limit.

No more.

I don’t think.

I’m scared.

That I can’t.

Handle the burden.

A candle in the night, fear on every face when he goes inside
(Maybe he’s on the run?)
Get back from the bar! A stranger in town is a dangerous sight
(Maybe he’s got a gun?)
“Bring a bottle of whisky, ladlord, I wanna talk for a while.”
And where the traveller goes, a cold wind blows,
Oh, where the traveller goes, a cold wind blows

There is something in his eyes, something in his hands,
You can almost smell his revenge
And whoever he is after, it will be disaster:
This man is gonna take him to the very end

The Traveller, Chris de Burgh

I’m so very tired.

Can I rest now?

She needs to pull the teeth (plural) she can’t save.

I’m gonna need partial dentures.

My front tooth is gonna fall out regardless.

A full set of implants would cost $30K. So that’s off the table.

The first round is gonna cost me around $2K.

Which is doable. It’s still a lot.

For all of two seconds I considered a GoFundMe.

But this is my mess.

I need to deal with the consequences.