The distance is measured in seconds
as your heart beats in sync
With the watch you watch so diligently.
Gazing in every single place
but where it matters
Refusing to face my face
for fear of fear.
Every single moment we dance this,
this syncopated
Melodramatic
Second by Second race.
Indeterminably you.
Repetitions repetition by you,
the repetition's heart beat by you
Again, again and again.
We face the sound of sound
by waters trail and beasts tail.
Running this syncopated race.
As we avoid face and time.
Time is our oyster,
the seconds are a waste
as we trail minute by minuet.
Words playing off our tounges
as we fumble in our pockets
for this minute change
of our lost ways.
Brazen we smile as we dance
refusing to cope with out loss.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Non-Story
Free lancer impostor
Persuader and full time traitor
Donning porcelain masks
and magazines,
the trade is in the lie.
Informing all of their terrible sin
while retaining all my secrets within.
It is a beautiful life based upon myself
My guilt, my health and the fork tongued self.
Any more release and we might have pain.
Any more trouble and you can be sure of my name.
I wear the mask to show the same
Nameless villains within,
that dabbles in the art of self,
the pious beginnings we all say
Are the blessings of which we win.
Wearing my hat in all its glory,
I recite the words
To my greatest story
Of elves and birds and swords,
of the wicked tongues
and acts of men.
Yes, a blessed curse of contradictory rates.
Persuader and full time traitor
Donning porcelain masks
and magazines,
the trade is in the lie.
Informing all of their terrible sin
while retaining all my secrets within.
It is a beautiful life based upon myself
My guilt, my health and the fork tongued self.
Any more release and we might have pain.
Any more trouble and you can be sure of my name.
I wear the mask to show the same
Nameless villains within,
that dabbles in the art of self,
the pious beginnings we all say
Are the blessings of which we win.
Wearing my hat in all its glory,
I recite the words
To my greatest story
Of elves and birds and swords,
of the wicked tongues
and acts of men.
Yes, a blessed curse of contradictory rates.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Running Songs
It is in every breath you take,
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.
I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.
The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.
Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.
To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.
the shifting light being born.
Pure only in the ways that you imagine
that a life of lie could be.
The frigid breeze you make,
with words full of unspoken scorn.
I could stand here and pretend,
imagine my soul as light
and free
and content
born to be lifted
Above petty sight and being your personal blight.
Free to roam these streets alone.
Free to be who I was born to be.
No longer afraid of what it means,
to be free of the malcontent of your lies.
The problem of choice is that we choose,
we choose to be what we be.
We cry and die to simple amplify our lie.
Yes, it is pitiful but it is who we are.
To deny ourselves ourself would be inhuman,
but is it what we need to be free?
To see ourselves as much as we are.
That all consuming lie we sell
at the corner markets of our soul.
Ringing bells.
To run free forever on this breeze,
that is where I will be.
To never be brought down by your negative conviction,
the lies you spun to being disorder,
the lies you sowed to let blossom into little birdies.
That sing, sing the one song you know.
You.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Unexpected Flight Layover
It is every single breath you take
that tells me every single thing
Every slight of hand
The forms your lips make
Your hollowness that craves a ring
If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't be me
If it wasn't just you it would
Delay.
Again.
It is the smallness of your hands
Their gentle pressure
As you continue to struggle
The vision gets bleaker
As your grip gets tighter
The only thing you know is yourself
If vanity was true it was always you
Delayed.
If not Denied.
Again.
To call this a dance is to blaspheme
The distance between us is a gulf
Created by the sparse vacuum
That you confuse for being a soul.
My only certainty of you
Is in that you begin as you end
Merciless void drawing in light
You delayed again.
Denying yourself
As you press your lips tight
Kissing your honey good night
Caressing my heart in distance
Smiling your little grin
Smug in the naivety of those who trust
Who dig their grave because of you.
Really it is simple.
Your analogy of life is a construct
Pulled by you.
Your] are a fiend.
Playing as a friend.
Delaying.
Delayed.
Delay.
Play with your dead mouse little kitten.
Purse your lips and make them perfect.
Dab a little make up.
Some gloss
Shadows for the fire of your eyes.
Constrict my throat
Hold onto my hand
Go ahead and grasp my heart with both hands.
By all means you are a charlatan.
A beautiful depression who delays.
Singing a melody you pretend to have wrote.
I see through your eyes.
You delayed again.
You stopped the bullet with your eyes.
If you smile you know you can hold.
I just taste bile.
Because of that pretty little smile.
that tells me every single thing
Every slight of hand
The forms your lips make
Your hollowness that craves a ring
If I wasn't so sure I wouldn't be me
If it wasn't just you it would
Delay.
Again.
It is the smallness of your hands
Their gentle pressure
As you continue to struggle
The vision gets bleaker
As your grip gets tighter
The only thing you know is yourself
If vanity was true it was always you
Delayed.
If not Denied.
Again.
To call this a dance is to blaspheme
The distance between us is a gulf
Created by the sparse vacuum
That you confuse for being a soul.
My only certainty of you
Is in that you begin as you end
Merciless void drawing in light
You delayed again.
Denying yourself
As you press your lips tight
Kissing your honey good night
Caressing my heart in distance
Smiling your little grin
Smug in the naivety of those who trust
Who dig their grave because of you.
Really it is simple.
Your analogy of life is a construct
Pulled by you.
Your] are a fiend.
Playing as a friend.
Delaying.
Delayed.
Delay.
Play with your dead mouse little kitten.
Purse your lips and make them perfect.
Dab a little make up.
Some gloss
Shadows for the fire of your eyes.
Constrict my throat
Hold onto my hand
Go ahead and grasp my heart with both hands.
By all means you are a charlatan.
A beautiful depression who delays.
Singing a melody you pretend to have wrote.
I see through your eyes.
You delayed again.
You stopped the bullet with your eyes.
If you smile you know you can hold.
I just taste bile.
Because of that pretty little smile.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Fifty Years
While attempting to lay down and take a nap, apparently the only time good ideas will come to me, I was hit with the dawning realization that I have approximately fifty years of life left, give or take.
If my mom is lucky she has about twenty - thirty years and with the way my step dad keeps trashing his body he'll be lucky to have anything more then another five to ten years.
Mortality is bizarre, the fact we are limited in life isn't necessarily the most odd thing but coming to grapple with the fact that I will not be living past the 2060's is one strange concept. Stopping to think about it, there is an equal if not greater chance of me dying before then...could be ten years or my heart could stop beating before you are able to finish reading this very sentence.
Insane I have to say.
Insane.
Since we have such a short amount of time left what do we do with it? What point is there to actually utilizing the time for anything? Do we have a greater purpose beyond using the time and circumstances for anything other then our pursuits and our pleasures? When the time comes to give an account for ourselves can we just declare "I am" and hope it works all out?
To a lesser extent that is the greatest tenant of humanism:
"I am, I will be, I will continue. All things exist as they will be. I exist for my will to be done and it will be."
I admit that is a slight over simplification but I think it serves the purpose of discussion.
One of the biggest themes of Christianity, the Bible, the teachings of Christ, however you want to put it, is the death of self serving attitudes.
The Bible does not say human life or the enjoyment of sex and drink is wrong. That is a misconception that can be traced back to stoic philosophies. The real focus Scripture has is that we bring our lives into balance.
"You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect"
-Matthew 5:48
To be honest English as a language sucks. Translating the Bible from Hebrew and Greek is a tricky thing at best and quite frankly I hate most translations.
In the above passage the word 'perfect' would be better translated as complete or whole.
The idea Jesus was trying to convey in Matthew 5 (also know as the Sermon on the Mount for all you would be Rhode Scholars) is that traditional wisdom on religion sucks and it sucks bad. Some ideas concerning traditional wisdom that Jesus said sucked were:
-not murdering people but holding grudges
-not cheating on your spouse but letting your mind and eyes wander onto someone else
-using double speak to avoid the truth
-simply loving your friends and hating your enemies
-Seeking revenge on those who have wronged you
In other words these actions and reactions are not part of who we should be. It is beneath the men and women we were meant to be. Petty fights, senseless passions and worship of the self are all fleeting ideas that never lead to any true satisfaction and a real complete self.
At best it is a cheap fix to giving ourselves meaning.
The typical thought is that 'boys will be boys', 'politicians will lie anyway', 'I can't help how I feel', 'what they don't know won't kill them'...incidentally most of these are actually double speak and ways for people to cling to both an idea of religion while eating their cake (see Revelation 3:16 about being spat about for this kind of thing).
It is not like God's law/rules/whatever make a person worse, it just shows us for who we really are...selfish pricks. The Law acts as an equalizer, making us look at who we really are deep down...flawed humans who are desperately drowning in our own selfish pools of self pity.
Humans aren't necessarily evil, just severally flawed...wait, was that double speak in and of itself?
Point being is that we have limited time and most people use it to indulge what ever we think will make us happy and consequently we put on a smile and are unhappy. The sex, the games, the beer may help us smile a bit but on the inside we are dying.
We may not know why, but we are not content with who we are. I am a Christian and I'm not happy. I struggle with depression and feeling lost and worthless, content saint I am not.
I write poetry that tends to be about life sucking. I keep a blog where I can moan and complain about how unfair life is. I don't just think the glass is half empty, I pour it out onto the floor and slam the glass down on the bar demanding to know where my drink went.
Is this the life I want? Is it a life any of us want? How much real decision do any of us have at any given point?
We can float about to a certain degree but we have monetary obligations. We want so we buy, we want more so we get credit so we can buy more. Or maybe we just screwed over by life and we're left with debt we can't pay.
There is always something waiting around the corner to side line us and get our eyes off the bigger picture.
But at the end of the day we are not responsible for what life does to us, what other humans do to us...but we are responsible for how we react and what it is we do with our responses.
In Matthew 5 Jesus says we should:
-Forgive everyone no matter how badly they hurt us. The deeper the blow the more desperate we are in need of forgiving them and allow healing in our soul.
-Knowing we are human but also knowing that commitment is more important then running ourselves ragged with sexual baggage. The more you expose yourself to that life the less you feel, abandoning yourself to the mercy of pleasure is a sure ticket to Hell on earth.
-The truth may hurt but living a duplicitous life is a way to ensure life long misery.
-Love everyone, it is the only way to make it through life with a shred of sanity. Giving yourself to loving God and then loving others is the only way to find a shred of meaning but...that still has no guarantee.
-A life wasted on vengeance is a life wasted entirely. A heart consumed with hate has no room for love.
Fifty years.
If I am lucky at that.
Decisions that shape me and the future in ways I can never know.
I am responsible only for my actions, no one else.
Every day I choose to either move towards completion or back into chaos.
"In a word, what I'm saying is, GROW UP. You're kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Love generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you."
-Matthew 5:48
"If you want to give it all you've got," Jesus replied, "go sell your possession, give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me."
-Matthew 19:21
If my mom is lucky she has about twenty - thirty years and with the way my step dad keeps trashing his body he'll be lucky to have anything more then another five to ten years.
Mortality is bizarre, the fact we are limited in life isn't necessarily the most odd thing but coming to grapple with the fact that I will not be living past the 2060's is one strange concept. Stopping to think about it, there is an equal if not greater chance of me dying before then...could be ten years or my heart could stop beating before you are able to finish reading this very sentence.
Insane I have to say.
Insane.
Since we have such a short amount of time left what do we do with it? What point is there to actually utilizing the time for anything? Do we have a greater purpose beyond using the time and circumstances for anything other then our pursuits and our pleasures? When the time comes to give an account for ourselves can we just declare "I am" and hope it works all out?
To a lesser extent that is the greatest tenant of humanism:
"I am, I will be, I will continue. All things exist as they will be. I exist for my will to be done and it will be."
I admit that is a slight over simplification but I think it serves the purpose of discussion.
One of the biggest themes of Christianity, the Bible, the teachings of Christ, however you want to put it, is the death of self serving attitudes.
The Bible does not say human life or the enjoyment of sex and drink is wrong. That is a misconception that can be traced back to stoic philosophies. The real focus Scripture has is that we bring our lives into balance.
"You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect"
-Matthew 5:48
To be honest English as a language sucks. Translating the Bible from Hebrew and Greek is a tricky thing at best and quite frankly I hate most translations.
In the above passage the word 'perfect' would be better translated as complete or whole.
The idea Jesus was trying to convey in Matthew 5 (also know as the Sermon on the Mount for all you would be Rhode Scholars) is that traditional wisdom on religion sucks and it sucks bad. Some ideas concerning traditional wisdom that Jesus said sucked were:
-not murdering people but holding grudges
-not cheating on your spouse but letting your mind and eyes wander onto someone else
-using double speak to avoid the truth
-simply loving your friends and hating your enemies
-Seeking revenge on those who have wronged you
In other words these actions and reactions are not part of who we should be. It is beneath the men and women we were meant to be. Petty fights, senseless passions and worship of the self are all fleeting ideas that never lead to any true satisfaction and a real complete self.
At best it is a cheap fix to giving ourselves meaning.
The typical thought is that 'boys will be boys', 'politicians will lie anyway', 'I can't help how I feel', 'what they don't know won't kill them'...incidentally most of these are actually double speak and ways for people to cling to both an idea of religion while eating their cake (see Revelation 3:16 about being spat about for this kind of thing).
It is not like God's law/rules/whatever make a person worse, it just shows us for who we really are...selfish pricks. The Law acts as an equalizer, making us look at who we really are deep down...flawed humans who are desperately drowning in our own selfish pools of self pity.
Humans aren't necessarily evil, just severally flawed...wait, was that double speak in and of itself?
Point being is that we have limited time and most people use it to indulge what ever we think will make us happy and consequently we put on a smile and are unhappy. The sex, the games, the beer may help us smile a bit but on the inside we are dying.
We may not know why, but we are not content with who we are. I am a Christian and I'm not happy. I struggle with depression and feeling lost and worthless, content saint I am not.
I write poetry that tends to be about life sucking. I keep a blog where I can moan and complain about how unfair life is. I don't just think the glass is half empty, I pour it out onto the floor and slam the glass down on the bar demanding to know where my drink went.
Is this the life I want? Is it a life any of us want? How much real decision do any of us have at any given point?
We can float about to a certain degree but we have monetary obligations. We want so we buy, we want more so we get credit so we can buy more. Or maybe we just screwed over by life and we're left with debt we can't pay.
There is always something waiting around the corner to side line us and get our eyes off the bigger picture.
But at the end of the day we are not responsible for what life does to us, what other humans do to us...but we are responsible for how we react and what it is we do with our responses.
In Matthew 5 Jesus says we should:
-Forgive everyone no matter how badly they hurt us. The deeper the blow the more desperate we are in need of forgiving them and allow healing in our soul.
-Knowing we are human but also knowing that commitment is more important then running ourselves ragged with sexual baggage. The more you expose yourself to that life the less you feel, abandoning yourself to the mercy of pleasure is a sure ticket to Hell on earth.
-The truth may hurt but living a duplicitous life is a way to ensure life long misery.
-Love everyone, it is the only way to make it through life with a shred of sanity. Giving yourself to loving God and then loving others is the only way to find a shred of meaning but...that still has no guarantee.
-A life wasted on vengeance is a life wasted entirely. A heart consumed with hate has no room for love.
Fifty years.
If I am lucky at that.
Decisions that shape me and the future in ways I can never know.
I am responsible only for my actions, no one else.
Every day I choose to either move towards completion or back into chaos.
"In a word, what I'm saying is, GROW UP. You're kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Love generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you."
-Matthew 5:48
"If you want to give it all you've got," Jesus replied, "go sell your possession, give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me."
-Matthew 19:21
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
I'm going to apply for that internship because I feel a strong conviction in my heart to make an impact.
Every time I think of those who are hurting and selling their bodies and souls for money...who think they are beyond the love of any human much less the Father...I just am mixed with feelings of deep sadness, rage and longing to show them that they are not alone.
Sadness at the needless pain, sadness at the often times innocence that is raped away by this world. Sadness at the needless hurt. Sadness because I'm so weak and stagnant in my own heart.
Rage at my own weakness, my own cowardice. Rage at the demons that mislead people, that I hear whisper in my ear every day. Rage at so often failing to take a stand that is needed in my own personal life with the people I interact with on a daily basis.
I have so far to go in trying to understand this love that I want to share.
Every time I think of those who are hurting and selling their bodies and souls for money...who think they are beyond the love of any human much less the Father...I just am mixed with feelings of deep sadness, rage and longing to show them that they are not alone.
Sadness at the needless pain, sadness at the often times innocence that is raped away by this world. Sadness at the needless hurt. Sadness because I'm so weak and stagnant in my own heart.
Rage at my own weakness, my own cowardice. Rage at the demons that mislead people, that I hear whisper in my ear every day. Rage at so often failing to take a stand that is needed in my own personal life with the people I interact with on a daily basis.
I have so far to go in trying to understand this love that I want to share.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
It is frustrating that in what little contact I have made in trying to find a church position I am now more convinced then ever that I will never be hired unless I am willing to put on a charade and parade around religiosity bullshit that would otherwise cause me to vomit.
The fact that Jesus loves you should not only be a comforting thought but it should become the deepest desire in the very being of your soul. It should become the single most disturbing thought that haunts your every waking and sleeping moments. The fact the one who spoke creation into being is enraptured with your sinful and otherwise useless failure of a self should cause you to stand up boldly under the weight of knowing that without his very breath and attention your frail body would collapse in of itself and you would drown in your own bodily fluids.
...on further reflection I think I see why I will not be hired anytime soon.
The fact that Jesus loves you should not only be a comforting thought but it should become the deepest desire in the very being of your soul. It should become the single most disturbing thought that haunts your every waking and sleeping moments. The fact the one who spoke creation into being is enraptured with your sinful and otherwise useless failure of a self should cause you to stand up boldly under the weight of knowing that without his very breath and attention your frail body would collapse in of itself and you would drown in your own bodily fluids.
...on further reflection I think I see why I will not be hired anytime soon.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I suppose this is what makes me the absolute same as every other human:
I am a rather horrible person. Undeniable fact really.
Good? Giving? Kind? Courteous?
Semantical ideals that are no more then lies, lies we need to tell ourself so we can lay down at night and sleep.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Human beings really can only handle so much real truth.
We polish up everything we are to afraid to deal with and what may make us upset. Wonderful horrors we are all deep down.
I am a rather horrible person. Undeniable fact really.
Good? Giving? Kind? Courteous?
Semantical ideals that are no more then lies, lies we need to tell ourself so we can lay down at night and sleep.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Human beings really can only handle so much real truth.
We polish up everything we are to afraid to deal with and what may make us upset. Wonderful horrors we are all deep down.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Another day of pain in my gut and in my back and neck. I'm itching on my body from using the pain killers.
I had such a vivid dream last night.
It started out with me being back at the University of Mobile, in Samford Hall. I was in the lobby but things had changed in the dorm. It was much bigger, with more rooms and more halls.
Thomas was there. He was his brusque self as always.
We hung around and eventually about four other piled into our dorm room, saying they wee staying there as well. It was crowded but not uncomfortably so.
At some point I was on the first floor, then things turned to Harry Potter. Death Eaters came, I assume I somehow became Harry Potter because I saw Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.
I am very tired, very sleepy, very pained and need sleep.
...and my Ginny Weasley as well.
I had such a vivid dream last night.
It started out with me being back at the University of Mobile, in Samford Hall. I was in the lobby but things had changed in the dorm. It was much bigger, with more rooms and more halls.
Thomas was there. He was his brusque self as always.
We hung around and eventually about four other piled into our dorm room, saying they wee staying there as well. It was crowded but not uncomfortably so.
At some point I was on the first floor, then things turned to Harry Potter. Death Eaters came, I assume I somehow became Harry Potter because I saw Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger.
I am very tired, very sleepy, very pained and need sleep.
...and my Ginny Weasley as well.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Press *86 In Case of Zombie Attacks
Tonight is the night I never thought I would see
Everything that was just fade away
Taken apart in a blind zombie eating rage!
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let’s go fight
Don’t get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There’s a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
You know I don’t care the cause
Zombies rise and Zombies fall
You know I could sing it all day long
Haunted cabins and desolate malls
All fill my sight as I try to let go
Infected labs can produce the disease
That’s okay; they can still burn to the ground
Look out tonight, some heads might roll,
I’m revving up the chainsaw
And about to come get some
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let’s go fight
Don’t get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There’s a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
They're gonna eat your love ones
The're gonna kill the hated ones
Just like the rising sun
This plague doesn't care who it falls upon
zombies to the left to the right
its gonna be one long night
grab the shotgun shells
open the door to Hell,
'cause there is a lot to pay
Let’s go fight
let’s go fight
Everything that was just fade away
Taken apart in a blind zombie eating rage!
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let’s go fight
Don’t get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There’s a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
You know I don’t care the cause
Zombies rise and Zombies fall
You know I could sing it all day long
Haunted cabins and desolate malls
All fill my sight as I try to let go
Infected labs can produce the disease
That’s okay; they can still burn to the ground
Look out tonight, some heads might roll,
I’m revving up the chainsaw
And about to come get some
Zombies to the left of me,
Zombies to the right
Look out for the one about to bite
Grab the shotgun shells and let’s go fight
Don’t get trapped down an alley,
Or to snug in your aerie
There’s a war in the streets
Man versus the beast
They're gonna eat your love ones
The're gonna kill the hated ones
Just like the rising sun
This plague doesn't care who it falls upon
zombies to the left to the right
its gonna be one long night
grab the shotgun shells
open the door to Hell,
'cause there is a lot to pay
Let’s go fight
let’s go fight
Au Revoir, Amour
La bonne nuit; Dieu nous rachètent et gardent?
(For the good night; can God save and keep us?)
Singing another sad tune
full of broken thoughts
filled with bleeding hearts
I came here to say,
A stopover just to say
Goodbye and goodnight.
If dreaming was real
The pain could be healed
My heart would take flight
Thank you much,
Goodnight.
The moonlight dance
in thoughts concealed
A bright burning light,
never to be lit
Stopping by just to finish up
It's hard to say goodbye
to that which you never knew
Harder, yeah harder still
Goodbye, good night
I wish you well
To not worry, never to bother
about that which isn't seen
(For the good night; can God save and keep us?)
Singing another sad tune
full of broken thoughts
filled with bleeding hearts
I came here to say,
A stopover just to say
Goodbye and goodnight.
If dreaming was real
The pain could be healed
My heart would take flight
Thank you much,
Goodnight.
The moonlight dance
in thoughts concealed
A bright burning light,
never to be lit
Stopping by just to finish up
It's hard to say goodbye
to that which you never knew
Harder, yeah harder still
Goodbye, good night
I wish you well
To not worry, never to bother
about that which isn't seen
Monday, June 9, 2008
It is good to know that these waves will continue to crash and wash away long beyond my minuscule lifetime.
The waves wash and carry grains of sand far beyond their homes.
I am buffeted by the wings of time and drawn into streams of life I never to be.
Every passing moment of life is as fleeting as the next.
Wave crashing wave, carrying out purpose with a fleeting life time as old as age.
The waves wash and carry grains of sand far beyond their homes.
I am buffeted by the wings of time and drawn into streams of life I never to be.
Every passing moment of life is as fleeting as the next.
Wave crashing wave, carrying out purpose with a fleeting life time as old as age.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Service With A Smile (Part 1)
Chapter One
Like every day around him, it was cold and weary. Even while driving in his car down the blistering hot pavement, the chill from within acted to cool his demeanor in ways that the elements could not hope to.
Miles clicked by as he stared absentmindedly at the road. Occasional cars would pass him as they weave amongst flickering white lines.
This is, as it were, the beginning and end of the atypical American's day.
Begin in car.
End in car.
Mindless automaton processes of data flowing via the clicks and clatters of fingers upon keyboards.
Of course, the lucky exception actually see the sunlight and do not have jobs which cause them to want to throw themselves in front of an oncoming train, those of us not adventures enough to dive in front of the train mindless sit at out desk praying for a derailment that will carry it the needed thirty miles to demolish our cubicle along with the rest of the damn building.
But, as with the rest of the zombies who inhabit the building, I can write this in the full assurance that nothing will be changing in any near distant future.
Endless miles of driving end with a brisk walk into a commercialized paradise where consumerism and capitalism run hand in hand, stark naked through the imaginations stretching from those in marketing to the consumers that keep their mindless middle management job afloat.
Go between and in between, existing as a sick necessity to inflate ego. Doing their job is in keeping the sacred priests of corporations separated from the unwashed masses that offer their tithes to help build the stretching high steel and glass structures that act as a testament to the ultimately futility of the failures of humanity.
There is an abomination deep down, in all of this. But most do not see beyond its picture perfect facade. I cannot help but see things as they truly are. A blessed curse that steal every waking hour ad prevents me from even attempting to flirt with the ideas of sleep.
There is a problem in the zombie consumers buying from zombie creators, none of which seem to be aware of the puppet strings pulling their limbs, in a twisted show. What none see is that even beyond the puppet masters are more strings, bigger masters and more sinister plans.
Behind the middle management and corporate jargon harked by mindless money men is a darker plan most could not see even if the very thought wouldn't petrify their souls.
This is what I have seen, beyond the veil and into the swarming darkness engrossing our very lives. Every moment is embraced by a darker moment that most wouldn't see if it was dancing in front of them.
The mindless streams of data pass by on monitors. The underlying code consisting of zeros and ones, but as the other streams of life they run by mindless.
Monitor flashing, irradiation to the soul, cancer to the being.
Nothing more.
Nothing.
Even in the midsts of all other mindless actions, the breaks flash by as the placebo they are.
Clitter and clatter.
Keys.
Pushing, placing.
Reality blurred.
Nothing more.
** ** **
The dark stillness is pierced by a large and unholy wail. A hand with a well timed gesture reaches over and turns off the device with a trained timing. Day in, day out the gesture is small but the tired sigh that followed it acted as proper reflection of the owners soul.
Flash.
Burning retinas
Six thirteen flashed in emotionless green numbers.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Endless cycle.
My every day is a repetition.
The beat sees no end, the cycle loops itself in ways that I cannot understand.
Pounding.
Throbbing.
The voices are all that can match the fevered tempo of the merciless cycle of the day.
Walking across the room he peers into the mirror, seeing a tired pair of eyes staring back, devoid of energy. He pushes back stray hairs while ignoring the fact his days old stubble begs to be shaved.
What little rebellion is his to keep.
Taking the few steps to his bathroom he quickly falls into a routine almost as old as himself.
Showers, waste removal, waste entry, clothes, music and the like, all in no particular order then that which takes itself.
All things were in place, especially those that the normal person would find out of place.
His walk from room to room was simply followed by shadows interweaving from light to light.
He paused while he was half dressed for work. The shirt buttoned but the tie laid around his neck.
He stood still, like an animal knowing that he is being stalked.
"I know you are there. Waiting. Watching."
Silence was the only reply.
"The air is crawling from the presence of you sick little bastards. Are you just going to stay there?" Coughing to hide his growing fear Nathan looked around him. He couldn't see them but he knew, knew without any doubt that he was surrounded.
The first day I saw them, it was like darkness moving. I cannot know for sure if they knew right then that I could see them...but still. I was a child but only in age. It's not like I was mature by choice, whose family isn't ripped apart now a days?
But, I remember the day I first saw the shadow move. It was on my wall. I thought it was bugs or a bad dream, that wall paper was falling or maybe even I was going crazy.
Then I heard its tongue speak.
Low, ugly things. Things no human should be forced to hear, to absorb to even be subjected to. I didn't know what was being said but I quivered under my blankets, saying the fevered prayers of a child that broke a vase with his ball and knew he was about to be beaten by a wasted piece of shit posing as a father. .
Quivering under the sheets, praying the bad man would go away, I knew he was there. God could have sent his armies of angels to form a circle around my shaking mass but even that young I knew something had just changed.
Silence.
Oppressive silence pressing down my chest not letting me breath let alone scream for help.
Quite ragged breaths lifting my bare chest as I lay curled in a ball under some stupid theme bed covers.
Eventually I fell asleep.
Eyes shut.
Silence pressed against my ear drums.
I awoke on my back, my eyes staring into endlessly deep yellow eyes.
I screamed.
There were no screams today. He swallowed hard and counted to ten. Slowly.
The lady in the white coat said the little pills would help. The burning little lies would help him see less, the lights would be more dull and the pain less sharp. The extra things in his mind would stop screaming and become a tiny whisper, so gentle that he could ignore.
People in white coats lie.
As he stood there, the sun light from outside passed him by. Minutes or days passed by, neither of which he was sure about.
He closed his eyes harder and counted out loud, refusing to let childish prayers pass his lips. Clenching his body tightly he embraced the numbers into his very being, relishing the cold hard logic as he defied reality with his breathing as if all it took to alter the world was gritting your teeth and having a look of constipation upon your face.
The days were like this, the nights could be worse.
Pills.
Pink and blue.
Yellow and orange.
Sometimes water, most of the time beer.
Chemicals, fear and self loathing oh my.
The eyes opened and things were the same.
Day was day, the night was night.
All in all, our tempo is the same.
Chapter Two
The only thing more dull then operating a motorized vehicle is in operating it on the same dreary course of exactly thirty-seven minutes and exactly no soul.
Then again what could be considered worse is subjective to the face of occupying a desk for about eight hours, which is equivalent to four hundred and eight minutes or equal to around twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred seconds. Mathematically and practicality speaking they are all the same but which one of them makes you be a good little sheep and which one makes you want to take a flare gun to your bosses waste basket?
He took a deep breath and coughed, shaking his head all in separately awkward motions. He fell asleep at his desk, for the third time.
Today.
This hour in fact.
"How are the phone calls coming?" Asked a nasally voice from behind.
"Perfect. I am running at fifty four per hour and right on the hour."
You stupid old prick
"Fifty four? That is just slightly above acceptable. Shape up because we have a quota to fill." The voice left with the body, the odor leaving with Nathan's boss.
Alone again he lowered his head onto the cold metal desk. Letting the coolness relieve his fevered brow he let out a deep breath. His boss checked on him every half hour because the sales up front were not going well. If the sales were going well Nathan could go an entire week without seeing the crabby old man.
"Yes, Mr. Snarky Old Fart, I am making my calls.
"Yes, Mr. Sardonically laced Sarcastic Old Prick, I am making sure to be polite, more polite then you could ever try to be.
"Yes, Mr. Old Smelling Prick Who Soon Will be Wearing Diapers and Unable to Control His Own Bodily Functions, I understand the seemingly importance of my job but deep down I know how nihilistically pointless this whole damn thing is and how you will never amount to being anything more then an old man wash out from Human Resources that feels the ever increasing need to harass everyone because you are to much of an incompetent fool to do something productive."
A small explosion near his ear caused Nathan to skyrocket out of his chair and turn around. His eyes locked upon the small stature of a co worker hands held in mid-clap as her face was full of surprise.
He smiled at her sheepishly.
"Maybe you should try a little less caffeine babe?" She said with a half smile.
"I could but the water downed stuff just doesn't do the trick."
"Maybe not but I can at least appreciate the nice words you had for Mr.Harre."
He shook his head with a small smile, trying to hide the fact his cheeks had a tinge of red to them, "It isn't like he heard any of that. I just can not stand his superior attitude and the need he has to treat us all like children with handicaps."
"He isn't the only one here lacking but sure does make sure everyone knows it." She smiles at him pushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. "Any more choice words you want to share before you get back to work?"
"Oh...er..." He looked slightly lost for a minute before turning around to his work. "I like what you did with your hair." He attempted to say over his shoulder as he leaned his face dangerously close to the screen, hoping the light bathing over his face would hide any signs of him blushing.
Only God could have invented something as so horrifyingly beautiful and terrifying as women.
Satan invented middle management.
It seems like everything is coming to a head here.
Chapter Three
If every day in the company is the same, what does it mean when there is something different? An anomaly? An error? A terror? Something to be welcomed? To be feared?
Perspective.
The only reason any of these matter is because of causality.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I am here.
I am.
I am!
I EXSIST!
I AM!
This place is and will then neve be.
Forever and ever.
Nothing as it's own will.
But I am, I will and I shall persevere.
Chapter Four
The radio played a rock song by the metal band Nihilism R' Us as the back rooms bustled with activity. Dollies wheeled crates of paper as phones incessantly chirped. The madness created a backdrop befitting the madding atmosphere.
In the corner existed a small row of cubicles that housed the companies Telecommunication Customer liaison, a fancy way of saying they get paid to call people and harass them over buying more products.
It was a shitty job with absolute shit pay.
Truth is only as beautiful as the stark ugly naked form it takes.
Nathan was the only person at his desk.
There were a total of three people that were hired as liason specialists. One had ten years of experience and the other was hired at the same time as Nathan. Neither of them had touched their project books in the past month.
"You really should say something to Davis about them slacking off." The sweet voice said over his shoulder.
"It would fix nothing. Crying about problems to a man like that would just make him think I needed more work to shut me up."
"And that is somehow better then doing the work of your whole department?"
"At least I have some small amount of pride...still."
"Little boys and their pride."
"Just because you got about ten years on me doesn't mean I'm a kid."
"True, but you don't help your case sometimes."
"By doing the right thing?"
She placed her hands on his shoulder and gave a half smile he heard when she talked, "You are to cute for your own good. I hope we don't corrupt you."
Blushing he mumbled thanks as he dove back into the words of numbers.
** ** **
"Yes sir, I do understand sir. You do not wish to bothered. It is just th-" Nathan leaned his head away from the phone as a loud voice spouting obscenities about the annoyance of being awoken from a nap.
"Geez, some one is in a tiff today." Came a voice to the cubicle t the right of him.
Of course you would make such a brain numbing obvious statement, it is not as if my mind could hope to complete with your dizzyingly astute intellect that could only be revered and assure you of a steady future of making stupid statements about even stupider circumstances.
"Of course Gregory, who isn't taking a nap at two in the afternoon?"
"I would be if it wasn't for the racket coming from your side of the wall."
"Ah, yeah, doing you job tends to actually do that."
Silence from the other side.
Nathan placed the phone against his hear and was satisfied to hear a rapid beeping tone indicating that the customer had already hung up. Smiling he put his finger down on the receiver and readied himself to dial a new number when his chair was unexpectedly turned around and he was face to face with a rage contorted Gregory.
Take aback by hsi unexpected appearance Nathan tried d to back peddled the chair and ended up just hitting his desk. Before he could make any more moves Gregory spoke "Was that a shot at my work? Do you have a problem with how much I do? Is here some thing you want to get off your chest you little pissant?"
"I di-"
"Don't even try to say that isn't what you meant. I have heard you talking with that stupid 'friend' of yours here, that stupid red haired slut. Do you actually think she likes you beyond just pitying the fact you are some lost scrawny little ass kissing puppy?"
Nathan did not even know how he got into this mess but was scared that if he didn't so some thing quick then there wouldn't be a reason to worry about hating his job.
As if sensing he was going to make a break for it Gregory placed his arms on either side of Nathan's chair and lowered his face even closer as his voice dropped in tone but rose in venom. "Since you think you are the golden child of the company, I am going to do you a favor and let you have the rest of my work load today. Don't worry, it is a gift you won't need to return and there is plenty more of my gift giving to give."
Standing up straight and smiling he waved to a couple of startled looking workers. Giving a laugh he said "Still just breaking in the new guy. You think after a couple of months he could at least figure our what button to hit when. I'm off to lunch"
Giving a last cold smile to Nathan, he walked off towards the exit.
Nathan gave a sigh and turned around feeling shame and like a pile of refuse.
Ever since I first started working here Gregory has been mental. God alone knows how long he has been here but it sure would be nice if God could do something about this problem. If I make a wrong comment, a wrong move, a wrong breath an incorrectly placed comma in a sentence ... he feels the need to explode and pour out his wrath on me.
The only reason I can imagine that he hasn't been fired is because his father is high in upper management. Dear little Gregory may have visions of being just like daddy but no one in their right mind would promote this lunatic to a higher position. There have been better conscientious cannibals then him.
As much as I wish he would get bored and practice shoving screw drivers into an active light socket, he has his uses.
For example, he can actually do his job and aquire new clients. He is annoying enough to actually keep the assistant managers at bay. One time he managed to set the kitchen on fire and we got a whole afternoon off.
There could be other advantages to having him around but then again one could argue that keeping cockroaches around is a good idea. Cockroaches mind you! They can survive atomic blasts! What is up with that? They are diseases ridden vermin and nuclear explosions don't even faze them.
God has a sick sense of humor some days. Okay, most days.
Like every day around him, it was cold and weary. Even while driving in his car down the blistering hot pavement, the chill from within acted to cool his demeanor in ways that the elements could not hope to.
Miles clicked by as he stared absentmindedly at the road. Occasional cars would pass him as they weave amongst flickering white lines.
This is, as it were, the beginning and end of the atypical American's day.
Begin in car.
End in car.
Mindless automaton processes of data flowing via the clicks and clatters of fingers upon keyboards.
Of course, the lucky exception actually see the sunlight and do not have jobs which cause them to want to throw themselves in front of an oncoming train, those of us not adventures enough to dive in front of the train mindless sit at out desk praying for a derailment that will carry it the needed thirty miles to demolish our cubicle along with the rest of the damn building.
But, as with the rest of the zombies who inhabit the building, I can write this in the full assurance that nothing will be changing in any near distant future.
Endless miles of driving end with a brisk walk into a commercialized paradise where consumerism and capitalism run hand in hand, stark naked through the imaginations stretching from those in marketing to the consumers that keep their mindless middle management job afloat.
Go between and in between, existing as a sick necessity to inflate ego. Doing their job is in keeping the sacred priests of corporations separated from the unwashed masses that offer their tithes to help build the stretching high steel and glass structures that act as a testament to the ultimately futility of the failures of humanity.
There is an abomination deep down, in all of this. But most do not see beyond its picture perfect facade. I cannot help but see things as they truly are. A blessed curse that steal every waking hour ad prevents me from even attempting to flirt with the ideas of sleep.
There is a problem in the zombie consumers buying from zombie creators, none of which seem to be aware of the puppet strings pulling their limbs, in a twisted show. What none see is that even beyond the puppet masters are more strings, bigger masters and more sinister plans.
Behind the middle management and corporate jargon harked by mindless money men is a darker plan most could not see even if the very thought wouldn't petrify their souls.
This is what I have seen, beyond the veil and into the swarming darkness engrossing our very lives. Every moment is embraced by a darker moment that most wouldn't see if it was dancing in front of them.
The mindless streams of data pass by on monitors. The underlying code consisting of zeros and ones, but as the other streams of life they run by mindless.
Monitor flashing, irradiation to the soul, cancer to the being.
Nothing more.
Nothing.
Even in the midsts of all other mindless actions, the breaks flash by as the placebo they are.
Clitter and clatter.
Keys.
Pushing, placing.
Reality blurred.
Nothing more.
** ** **
The dark stillness is pierced by a large and unholy wail. A hand with a well timed gesture reaches over and turns off the device with a trained timing. Day in, day out the gesture is small but the tired sigh that followed it acted as proper reflection of the owners soul.
Flash.
Burning retinas
Six thirteen flashed in emotionless green numbers.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Endless cycle.
My every day is a repetition.
The beat sees no end, the cycle loops itself in ways that I cannot understand.
Pounding.
Throbbing.
The voices are all that can match the fevered tempo of the merciless cycle of the day.
Walking across the room he peers into the mirror, seeing a tired pair of eyes staring back, devoid of energy. He pushes back stray hairs while ignoring the fact his days old stubble begs to be shaved.
What little rebellion is his to keep.
Taking the few steps to his bathroom he quickly falls into a routine almost as old as himself.
Showers, waste removal, waste entry, clothes, music and the like, all in no particular order then that which takes itself.
All things were in place, especially those that the normal person would find out of place.
His walk from room to room was simply followed by shadows interweaving from light to light.
He paused while he was half dressed for work. The shirt buttoned but the tie laid around his neck.
He stood still, like an animal knowing that he is being stalked.
"I know you are there. Waiting. Watching."
Silence was the only reply.
"The air is crawling from the presence of you sick little bastards. Are you just going to stay there?" Coughing to hide his growing fear Nathan looked around him. He couldn't see them but he knew, knew without any doubt that he was surrounded.
The first day I saw them, it was like darkness moving. I cannot know for sure if they knew right then that I could see them...but still. I was a child but only in age. It's not like I was mature by choice, whose family isn't ripped apart now a days?
But, I remember the day I first saw the shadow move. It was on my wall. I thought it was bugs or a bad dream, that wall paper was falling or maybe even I was going crazy.
Then I heard its tongue speak.
Low, ugly things. Things no human should be forced to hear, to absorb to even be subjected to. I didn't know what was being said but I quivered under my blankets, saying the fevered prayers of a child that broke a vase with his ball and knew he was about to be beaten by a wasted piece of shit posing as a father. .
Quivering under the sheets, praying the bad man would go away, I knew he was there. God could have sent his armies of angels to form a circle around my shaking mass but even that young I knew something had just changed.
Silence.
Oppressive silence pressing down my chest not letting me breath let alone scream for help.
Quite ragged breaths lifting my bare chest as I lay curled in a ball under some stupid theme bed covers.
Eventually I fell asleep.
Eyes shut.
Silence pressed against my ear drums.
I awoke on my back, my eyes staring into endlessly deep yellow eyes.
I screamed.
There were no screams today. He swallowed hard and counted to ten. Slowly.
The lady in the white coat said the little pills would help. The burning little lies would help him see less, the lights would be more dull and the pain less sharp. The extra things in his mind would stop screaming and become a tiny whisper, so gentle that he could ignore.
People in white coats lie.
As he stood there, the sun light from outside passed him by. Minutes or days passed by, neither of which he was sure about.
He closed his eyes harder and counted out loud, refusing to let childish prayers pass his lips. Clenching his body tightly he embraced the numbers into his very being, relishing the cold hard logic as he defied reality with his breathing as if all it took to alter the world was gritting your teeth and having a look of constipation upon your face.
The days were like this, the nights could be worse.
Pills.
Pink and blue.
Yellow and orange.
Sometimes water, most of the time beer.
Chemicals, fear and self loathing oh my.
The eyes opened and things were the same.
Day was day, the night was night.
All in all, our tempo is the same.
Chapter Two
The only thing more dull then operating a motorized vehicle is in operating it on the same dreary course of exactly thirty-seven minutes and exactly no soul.
Then again what could be considered worse is subjective to the face of occupying a desk for about eight hours, which is equivalent to four hundred and eight minutes or equal to around twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred seconds. Mathematically and practicality speaking they are all the same but which one of them makes you be a good little sheep and which one makes you want to take a flare gun to your bosses waste basket?
He took a deep breath and coughed, shaking his head all in separately awkward motions. He fell asleep at his desk, for the third time.
Today.
This hour in fact.
"How are the phone calls coming?" Asked a nasally voice from behind.
"Perfect. I am running at fifty four per hour and right on the hour."
You stupid old prick
"Fifty four? That is just slightly above acceptable. Shape up because we have a quota to fill." The voice left with the body, the odor leaving with Nathan's boss.
Alone again he lowered his head onto the cold metal desk. Letting the coolness relieve his fevered brow he let out a deep breath. His boss checked on him every half hour because the sales up front were not going well. If the sales were going well Nathan could go an entire week without seeing the crabby old man.
"Yes, Mr. Snarky Old Fart, I am making my calls.
"Yes, Mr. Sardonically laced Sarcastic Old Prick, I am making sure to be polite, more polite then you could ever try to be.
"Yes, Mr. Old Smelling Prick Who Soon Will be Wearing Diapers and Unable to Control His Own Bodily Functions, I understand the seemingly importance of my job but deep down I know how nihilistically pointless this whole damn thing is and how you will never amount to being anything more then an old man wash out from Human Resources that feels the ever increasing need to harass everyone because you are to much of an incompetent fool to do something productive."
A small explosion near his ear caused Nathan to skyrocket out of his chair and turn around. His eyes locked upon the small stature of a co worker hands held in mid-clap as her face was full of surprise.
He smiled at her sheepishly.
"Maybe you should try a little less caffeine babe?" She said with a half smile.
"I could but the water downed stuff just doesn't do the trick."
"Maybe not but I can at least appreciate the nice words you had for Mr.Harre."
He shook his head with a small smile, trying to hide the fact his cheeks had a tinge of red to them, "It isn't like he heard any of that. I just can not stand his superior attitude and the need he has to treat us all like children with handicaps."
"He isn't the only one here lacking but sure does make sure everyone knows it." She smiles at him pushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. "Any more choice words you want to share before you get back to work?"
"Oh...er..." He looked slightly lost for a minute before turning around to his work. "I like what you did with your hair." He attempted to say over his shoulder as he leaned his face dangerously close to the screen, hoping the light bathing over his face would hide any signs of him blushing.
Only God could have invented something as so horrifyingly beautiful and terrifying as women.
Satan invented middle management.
It seems like everything is coming to a head here.
Chapter Three
If every day in the company is the same, what does it mean when there is something different? An anomaly? An error? A terror? Something to be welcomed? To be feared?
Perspective.
The only reason any of these matter is because of causality.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I am here.
I am.
I am!
I EXSIST!
I AM!
This place is and will then neve be.
Forever and ever.
Nothing as it's own will.
But I am, I will and I shall persevere.
Chapter Four
The radio played a rock song by the metal band Nihilism R' Us as the back rooms bustled with activity. Dollies wheeled crates of paper as phones incessantly chirped. The madness created a backdrop befitting the madding atmosphere.
In the corner existed a small row of cubicles that housed the companies Telecommunication Customer liaison, a fancy way of saying they get paid to call people and harass them over buying more products.
It was a shitty job with absolute shit pay.
Truth is only as beautiful as the stark ugly naked form it takes.
Nathan was the only person at his desk.
There were a total of three people that were hired as liason specialists. One had ten years of experience and the other was hired at the same time as Nathan. Neither of them had touched their project books in the past month.
"You really should say something to Davis about them slacking off." The sweet voice said over his shoulder.
"It would fix nothing. Crying about problems to a man like that would just make him think I needed more work to shut me up."
"And that is somehow better then doing the work of your whole department?"
"At least I have some small amount of pride...still."
"Little boys and their pride."
"Just because you got about ten years on me doesn't mean I'm a kid."
"True, but you don't help your case sometimes."
"By doing the right thing?"
She placed her hands on his shoulder and gave a half smile he heard when she talked, "You are to cute for your own good. I hope we don't corrupt you."
Blushing he mumbled thanks as he dove back into the words of numbers.
** ** **
"Yes sir, I do understand sir. You do not wish to bothered. It is just th-" Nathan leaned his head away from the phone as a loud voice spouting obscenities about the annoyance of being awoken from a nap.
"Geez, some one is in a tiff today." Came a voice to the cubicle t the right of him.
Of course you would make such a brain numbing obvious statement, it is not as if my mind could hope to complete with your dizzyingly astute intellect that could only be revered and assure you of a steady future of making stupid statements about even stupider circumstances.
"Of course Gregory, who isn't taking a nap at two in the afternoon?"
"I would be if it wasn't for the racket coming from your side of the wall."
"Ah, yeah, doing you job tends to actually do that."
Silence from the other side.
Nathan placed the phone against his hear and was satisfied to hear a rapid beeping tone indicating that the customer had already hung up. Smiling he put his finger down on the receiver and readied himself to dial a new number when his chair was unexpectedly turned around and he was face to face with a rage contorted Gregory.
Take aback by hsi unexpected appearance Nathan tried d to back peddled the chair and ended up just hitting his desk. Before he could make any more moves Gregory spoke "Was that a shot at my work? Do you have a problem with how much I do? Is here some thing you want to get off your chest you little pissant?"
"I di-"
"Don't even try to say that isn't what you meant. I have heard you talking with that stupid 'friend' of yours here, that stupid red haired slut. Do you actually think she likes you beyond just pitying the fact you are some lost scrawny little ass kissing puppy?"
Nathan did not even know how he got into this mess but was scared that if he didn't so some thing quick then there wouldn't be a reason to worry about hating his job.
As if sensing he was going to make a break for it Gregory placed his arms on either side of Nathan's chair and lowered his face even closer as his voice dropped in tone but rose in venom. "Since you think you are the golden child of the company, I am going to do you a favor and let you have the rest of my work load today. Don't worry, it is a gift you won't need to return and there is plenty more of my gift giving to give."
Standing up straight and smiling he waved to a couple of startled looking workers. Giving a laugh he said "Still just breaking in the new guy. You think after a couple of months he could at least figure our what button to hit when. I'm off to lunch"
Giving a last cold smile to Nathan, he walked off towards the exit.
Nathan gave a sigh and turned around feeling shame and like a pile of refuse.
Ever since I first started working here Gregory has been mental. God alone knows how long he has been here but it sure would be nice if God could do something about this problem. If I make a wrong comment, a wrong move, a wrong breath an incorrectly placed comma in a sentence ... he feels the need to explode and pour out his wrath on me.
The only reason I can imagine that he hasn't been fired is because his father is high in upper management. Dear little Gregory may have visions of being just like daddy but no one in their right mind would promote this lunatic to a higher position. There have been better conscientious cannibals then him.
As much as I wish he would get bored and practice shoving screw drivers into an active light socket, he has his uses.
For example, he can actually do his job and aquire new clients. He is annoying enough to actually keep the assistant managers at bay. One time he managed to set the kitchen on fire and we got a whole afternoon off.
There could be other advantages to having him around but then again one could argue that keeping cockroaches around is a good idea. Cockroaches mind you! They can survive atomic blasts! What is up with that? They are diseases ridden vermin and nuclear explosions don't even faze them.
God has a sick sense of humor some days. Okay, most days.
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