An Economic Guillotine

Mossy sludge is the stuff you find deep in the forest of the Pacific Northwest. Moss grows everywhere, unless you put some chemicals on it in your back yard so your ryegrass grows green and lush. Sludge is that thick, oozing residue of mud and gravel and little wiggly creatures. It is symbolic of the stuff at the bottom of your consciousness that you don't want to see or feel or hear or touch. Mossy sludge is a perfect name for my blog.

My first day of unemployment after my swift beheading by my previous employer, the deceptively named Compassion and Choices, did not lead to an economic bailout. Compassion and Choices, you know, is a group devoted to "death with dignity", and yesterday they suddenly and ruthlessly guillotined me -- a death without dignity.

Rather, I spent part of the day in stark terror at becoming destitute and homeless, and the other part cajoling myself into trying to see possible alternatives. There is something about stark terror that captures all one's senses; it is not possible to examine the spectrum of outcomes while in the panic mode. The only likely outcome is catastrophy. I've lost my job, soon I'll lose my house, my dogs will become emaciated, I'll become scruffy and bearded and I'll lie in the gutter and die with no name. The latter phrase from a Bob Dylan song.

But: I have begun Mossy Sludge, an outlet for me and a recording of the life of a recovering attorney, placed on the web for the masses to read, even as far away as Australia, Iceland, Winnemucca. I'll become famous after these entries are collected into what people used to call a "book" and it will sell milllions. So there is reason, today, for hope.