Mallory's Camera

Follow-up phone call with the client associated with the completed undertaking formerly known as Remunerative Project #3.

I was really dreading it.

Becawze… She cannot write. And she thinks she can write. So, my task as editor was to rewrite her prose while simultaneously making her believe that she had rewritten her prose.

“Wow,” she said. “I’ve fallen in love with this all over again. This is really, really good. You are really, really good.”

Yes, my dear: I am really, really good.

Insert animated gif of Mary Martin strutting on an ancient Broadway stage, preparing to belt, I Wanna Crow.

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I made enough $$$ so I don’t really need to work again till the end of April.

But the life of a freelancer is ever unpredictable, either feast or famine. Right now it’s feast, as clients line up to clamor for my services; but if I turn up my nose at them, if I do nothing for the next 30 days but play video games, sculpt cats out of Fimo, garden, tromp and watch trashy TV, God Will Punish Me, and Sybyl the Cat and I will end up living in a washing machine box under the bridge.

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What else?

I’ve given up paying attention to any news whatsoever except for the half hour or so I devote each morning to cobbling together Current Events’ Biggest Hits on Facebook.

I don’t read newspapers. I’ve expunged all podcasts from my playlists. I walk out of rooms where there are televisions tuned to CNN, MSNBC, Fox, or any of the mainstream news regurgitators.

Instead, I listen to music. My rotation is heavy on Tom Waits, Alabama 3 and various covers of old standards performed by unexpected artists. I am here to tell you that the definitive cover of I Did It My Way was not performed by Frank Sinatra but by Sid Vicious.

Yes, yes. The world is really and truly fucked.

It’s probably never been quite this fucked before.

But I can do nothing about the world’s general state of fuckitude.

Therefore, it’s irrelevant to me.

I continue to perform such small services to humankind as I can—which in my case appears to be doing taxes. I have six returns to do over the weekend! It’s almost gotten to the point where I’m collaring random people on the street: Say! Did you ever think you might be passing up hundreds of dollars in earned income credit and other refundable credits by not filing your 1040? Here! Lemme help!

Next week I start doing my one-day-a-week at the foodbank again.

And I am donating a chunk of my Remunerative Project #3 kickback to the local Planned Parenthood.

One does what one can.

Always aware that it’s never quite enough.

While sticking one’s fingers in one’s ears and singing, La, la, la, la! at the top of one’s lungs.