Thursday, April 5, 2012

The Freedom of an Hour Lunch

This work narrows the imagination so I don't know anything about castles now except that, like museums, they hold rich people's things so that the middle class has something to look at and aspire to on the weekends and the poor have another place to be kept out of all the time.

But I mean to say that I don't see dragons any more; not real dragons. I see lizards that are considered real dragons by nature programs in the sense that they actually exist, but I mean real dragons in the sense of the fake kind. You can't take them seriously and receive a paycheck for clerical work. You can only do one thing and I receive a paycheck for clerical work.

So, it has been years since I've envisioned dragons, moats, princesses or idiots traveling hundreds of miles with their loyal steeds on quests of doom and destiny. I work for a living and respect women, in that I expect them to slay their own dragons.

This work narrows the soul. I rarely think about starvation in countries without resorts that are therefore not listed among desirable getaways in the advertisement banners of city papers.

I think love is what happens when two functional people can stand each other as opposed to filling up wells of disappointment and resent for one another. I do not think that love is when two borderline psychotics with selfish impulses and no discernible character traits bludgeon each other with vacant declarations insisting in full measure upon the divine providence of their mutual depravity.

So, I don't think about what it was like to be a teenager. You can't love for the first time each time as though it is the last time if you budget sixty dollars a month to take a train and a bus to a desk you sit in front of while your mind struggles to wander. You can only do one thing, and I travel but not very far.

This work clarifies the struggles between management and workers. Management has more than they deserve and workers have less than that.

I do not indulge fantasies of fighting revolutions in well-heated countries wearing local variations of caps, dancing with women that smoke harsher cigarettes than myself, and plotting overthrows over espresso with artists whose paintings I can barely understand.

This work clarifies that the revolution can start without me. I will be very late if I arrive at all, and can only be counted on to write sternly worded, cautious criticism of its most perilous moments at the appropriate political interest forums.

I am a cog in a cog. I don't understand Bob Marley, but I only ever pretended that I did. I say I have mountains inside of me, and I fully expect a select few to fawn over these aforementioned rocks as I recklessly, needlessly, helplessly and repeatedly squander unknown reservoirs of talent at a job where thinking makes it worse.

This work has made me certain of the many things I would rather not know.

No comments:

Post a Comment