Day Seventeen: Inversed Reflections

Maybe you’ve heard about this whole salmonella-tomato bullshit. No other word for it. A bunch of people get a bellyache and the FDA destroys an entire industry. A few people die, but no one knows if the connection is between the bacteria or not. What a moronic country we live in. I can’t wait to leave.

The problem to me isn’t that I can’t get tomatoes on a Big ‘n Nasty, the problem is this perpetual state of fear we live in. Americans are like children afraid of the dark, except they are fat and unimaginative.

For some reason, I was able to find a Subway that had a different piece of paper taped to the register, stating that their tomatoes were not affected and so I ordered extra tomatoes on my sandwich. They were delicious.

Other than that, I went to work at Financial Resources. I don’t start at the Citizen until next week. The people there really don’t respect my office. They put all the furniture and supplies they don’t want in there, basically using my office as a storage facility. They took my desk and replaced it with a table. Someone stole the batteries from my mouse. Two guys walked into my office when I was out to use it for a private conversation. I opened the door and just looked at them and they glared at me and told me to give them a moment. The secretary thought my name was Toby.

Anyway, you know that Dust Off, Canned Air crap? I found a can of it in my office and so I used it on my clothes. Blows the dust right off. I will never have to wash my clothes again, not that I do anyway.

Other than that, I’m just the little office slave. I get all the jobs no one wants. File this, shred this. My uncle made me program his cell phone for him. It’s ironic, because my uncle reads more sci-fi than anyone I know, but couldn’t work a microwave. Maybe he doesn’t realize we already live in the future and it’s kinda real. Maybe this time he won’t vote for someone who will bomb innocent civilians halfway across the planet. And no, I don’t mean Obama.

Excuse the unprovoked political commentary. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been writing for the Lumberjack in a while. Maybe it has more to do with the fact that I’ve been watching the news. Not on purpose, but nonetheless. I can’t stand how maliciously stupid the media can be, yet I want to work for them.

I’ve kinda done some rethinking. Being anti-consumerist is not the same as being anti-capitalist. And the goal of a corporation is not really to control the masses, to oppress the poor. Their goal is to make money. But the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.

Did I work today? No, not really. Just like when I was in my accelerated high school, I spent most of the day researching topics on Wikipedia. I’m reading about more of the counter-culture of the ‘60s, Timothy Leary, Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters. I wish I had known all of this when I was younger. Now I just sit here and feel stupid, like I missed the wave. Even if I could ride the next one, it doesn’t seem like it would make a difference.

I’m just feeling that suck of air in the back of my skull when you realize the more you know, the less you know. Kinda the same feeling you get when you’re in an airplane. . . free falling into the Mariana Trench.

---x

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this. But it was a real experience, and it was important to me.
I got home late at night, and walked down to the lake. Half a moon glided through the dark ripples. I looked up at the night sky and remembered how I used to think of water as a metaphor for how deep God is. It just gets better and better. Maybe that’s lame, but I was thirteen. Still, the ideal carried with me through high school.
I’d forgotten that. So I had a moment. I removed my hat, joking with the almighty that I was on holy ground. Removed my shoes, too.
And we just talked. I sang and I felt for the first time that whole bridal connection thing. It wasn’t weird or awkward like I’d feared. It was really nice in fact.
I prayed for peace and realized I’m in my head a little too much. I think that’s a cause for stress and torment.
I just wanted to live a little while. I cried, and maybe that seems weak and pointless. I was feeling really distant. It wasn’t shame, it was longing.

Day Eight: Scab

There was no picture that defined today, so I put one that makes me happy.
- - - x

Woke up. Something on my neck, like a scab. Peel it off, glance at it. It's a tick. The sight of this bloodsucker squirming makes me impulsively drop it. The shock of being awake and already bleeding.

Two minutes later, I find another or the same bastard sticking his head in my belly. You're supposed to burn them out, right? So I light match after match and hold it up to this vermin. I'm late for work and I'm just burning myself. The tick is still squirming in my gut. So I break the rules, pull the bugger out and decapitate it. A little white spinal cord is oozing out his neck. The head is still inside me, burrowing deeper, sucking me up. Toss the corpse in the toilet.

I could get Lyme disease, which doesn't seem that bad. Very treatable. I don't have the "bullseye" rash.I probably picked the tick up yesterday, when I was in the woods with my cousins finding scrap metal. It was drinking of me all night long.

Work was somehow more bearable than before, but not much. Watching the clock, like some office whore. Tick tock. I came home with a migraine and couldn't think clearly. I felt like I'd given blood.

The tick was still floating in the toilet, waiting for me.

Things You Can Ponder

SEX
DEATH
GAMES
INFINITY
MARRIAGE
PARTIES
WORK
RELIGION
FOOD
CHILDREN
GHOSTS
NOTHING

ALL OF THE ABOVE: