Nietzsche wasn’t much on hope. Of it, he wrote “Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torment of man” or some words to that effect. Up until I read that, I had seen hope as my only means of survival; the only way out of my doldrums and depressions into which I have sunk ever since my disability became a constant and lifelong companion couple of years ago.
But after everything that has been happening recently, I can see Nietzsche’s point. I had kept hope alive, even after years of failing to find a simple part time job so I can spread my wings and make something of my broken and generally useless existence. I told myself, every night as I went to bed, tomorrow is another day, things will happen, and they just might be good things. Then, early evening November 29th, my landlady handed me a one line eviction notice, something to the effect of this arrangement is no longer working for me, and I want you out by the end of December. No real reason, no discussion…
Just a simple ‘fuck off’.
Suddenly I understood what Nietzsche meant. As a means of dragging one’s worn and hollow carcass from one obstacle to the next, hope is utterly useless. After all, what’s the point? One can only take so much failure and humiliation, especially while trying to achieve the most mundane of goals. Nietzsche’s words have been bouncing around in my brain as I make the rounds begging whoever with some power to help for the security deposit I need to find a decent room to rent in a corner of a house somewhere. Social services handed me a stack of papers for my perspective landperson to fill out so they can guarantee my security deposit, in case I tear the place apart.
All I need now is someone kind enough to agree to do paperwork and who trusts the state of New York enough to forgo good ol’ cash.
Yeah right.
I’m off to beg the Catholics for help next. I really don’t want to start the new decade either on a street corner or in a homeless shelter. So yeah, I guess I’m still hopeful. It’s pissing me off to no end but I’m still hopeful. After all, what’s the alternative? Ending my life? That’s just stupid. how will that help anything? Just sitting in a corner and withering away? That’s just as pointless. Besides, I get hungry easily. And I like to eat.
Oh shut up.
So yeah, I keep kicking and keep trying. I have a birthday coming in about a month. Let’s call that the minimum mark until which I’ll keep banging my head against all the walls that continue to be erected before me. I’ll get my free drink from Starbucks; my free burger from Red Robin, and see where I stand. Maybe by then, I’ll have some crumbs to feed that “thing with feathers”.
The little bastard.