So I'm sitting here again after one of those arguements with her, contmeplating why in God's name I ever stated this courtship, why I even considered starting it. Another dollar down because she didn't feel I deserved it; one of those arguements. Baseless but constant -

"Fucking bitch."

Some phraases are worth a thaousand words.

I have this idea: about how things work (or don't), how things are (or aren't [or wannabe]), and where I fit (I don't) in all of it. The world is as I see it because reality - my reality anyway - is by virtue what I precieve and how I do so. What I don't know might hurt me but I'll be none the wiser; just blame society, chug a caffine placebo and call it a day. Easy, right?

Maybe, but she changes the whole dynamic. If you din't see the trick question coming, turn back now; you're at the edge of the map and about to fall off the planet. No worries though, the booby prize is a nice, wholesome, simple life. Moving on, She.

Funny thing is, She's an idea too. A stupid one. Really stupid. Really really. She throws the other idea, the bigger and better idea, throws it right out the window on Doomsday the 13th. Probably wrietes all her friends about it too - likely in time for it to be delivered, read, commited to memory and responded to in person before I know the first thing about what the damn's going on. You can see why this idea is a she, yes?

So here's Her, Her friends, their friends, and a few random whoevers to move the word faster watching me in another milestone moment: a two grand cieance with a threadbusted teddy bear that's deader then it's ever been hosted by yours truly. Losing the payday and a chunk of materials was bad enough, but when someone can drop 2K on a gypsy lottery for their dead brat, they have connections. It's an idea merchant's nightmare; the whistle was blown and I lost what passes for tenure in my feild. My biggest bust ever.

I never worked in that city again, not for lack of trying. So I uprooted, nothing new, though I was almost settled this time around. A couple settlements over I started work on a new client base.

That was a waste of time. The stiff with the brat had told on to the stiffs where I'd landed. Once I was big enough to show up on their radar (read: profiting), I was stuffed again: Day One my phone and electric kicked it in the middle of the month, Day Three a phone wouldn't have mattered since my rep was slagged, and Day Eight some burraucrat wanted to see my license. A spooktalker lisence? Bullshit. Day Eleven I'm off again.

Two more cities over round two is the same, slower, but the same. I dodged the burraucrat by taking off when turned quiet.

That's all a week behind me. Skipping on the TKO I'm walking nowhere, working at nothing jobs for nothing food as I go along to keep the guts of the idea alive and leaving what She does in Her hands.

I know you've been itching for this: who's She? Like I said, She's an idea and a really really stupid one. She the idea that  I can actually talk to the dead, not just scam people into thinking so.

I know it's true. She doesn't agree with me.

So why don't I let be and get a real job? She won't let me. When I do, she'll do a sexy wiggle by giving me some paranormal dirt and keep shoveling it at me until I cave or nobody will hire the nutcase. So She and I flirt a little, some success is had - I'm the best in the biz when she wants me to be - then she fucks off and we have one of those arguements.

It's never gone this fair, and I've never left the ball officially in her court before. I expect she'll eat me now that I'm ripe. This is new though, who knows. For now, I'm walking.

"Fucking bitch."

Fucking bitch.