Carry On

In movies, at least in Hollywood movies, there are happy endings. People overcome the odds and find a way to triumph. Some of these stories are said to be based on real life, although most of the time, if you check the record, a certain romanticizing has occurred, as all of my friends from other parts of the world point out. By contrast, in real life even here in America, the odds almost always overcome us mere people, and there is nothing romantic about that. People are therefore allowed to become bitter when life turns unfair. Cynics and realists have always held that life is unfair, i.e., 'get used to it.' I've always had trouble getting used to it, maybe because I come from modest circumstances, and therefore bought the American myth without enough critical thinking, even though I was a rebel. I've always held on to hope and romance as the salvation for a life lived as fairly and honestly as possible. But maybe the cynics are right; maybe there will be no fairness, no justice at the end, just stacked odds against people like me. Just, let us say, a big, brutal, bloated government that kicks you when you are down. *** The envelope with my name on it arrived from the IRS Saturday. Suddenly the warm air that felt so wonderful earlier became stifling and I started to have trouble breathing. I took an innocent flower pot off my back deck and smashed it on the cement below, the erstwhile basketball court where we never play any longer. I probably will break other innocent things before this is over. Too many problems plague this place. There was no joy left here today. As I looked at the hated agency's demands for records used for my 2009 tax return, now officially being audited, I remembered coming home from a business trip that summer to discover the flood in my laundry room. I blogged about it here; someone must remember. I had to discard boxes of files, including some of the receipts now being demanded, thus life started feeling doubly, triply unfair today. Why these unending assaults? How will I muster the energy to resist further? What inner fight remains? It was a gut check. Any independent business person using Schedule C knows how hard it is to comply with the government's complicated rules about how to report your income and expenses. Plus, the tinier your business is, and mine is miniscule, the more ridiculous it becomes trying to comply. The truth is I honestly reported every number, but the equal truth is I don't know whether I can prove that this long afterwards. The reason is not just the flood, it is the limitations of space and time. Given my age and situation, I have been aggressively throwing away my past in recent years. Some of the boxes of papers I threw away could help me now, but at the time I thought they were meaningless. But by far my biggest liability in this battle will be the loneliness of it all. I will have to fight this battle all on my own, day after day, opening up file after file throughout the house, seeking lost pieces of paper, lost statements, lost receipts, not knowing whether they ever will be found. No one will help me keep track and I will get confused, and very sad. Without a partner or friend to help me cope, the days ahead feel like Death Valley stretching out, cracked, parched, with no relief in sight. Under the pressure of an Orwellian deadline, I already know what lies ahead. I will not allow myself to go out for a walk, eat, or listen to music. I'll lose more weight, not necessarily a bad thing, but I've already lost ten pounds the past month under other pressures, fighting other audits and insults. All this gruesome work will be conducted in silence, such as in war. My smiles, already too rare, will disappear. Who can smile when their government has invaded their dreams for a safe and secure future, implicitly accusing them of improprieties that, even if true (which they are not) would not amount to a trillionth of a trillionth of a percent of the crimes committed but never prosecuted by Wall Street's billionaires. It's at times like these that I need a friend. Without a friend, I need music. Carry on.