Yes, it's six months later, yes, I have some vapid full time job, yes I'm growing fonder of whisky and less of people, yes the person I am now is a black stain of the former bright smear that I was becoming. What more do you want to know? Have I given up, fettered myself to a suit, handcuffed myself to a desk, plastered on a fake smile, started drinking from the milky bowl of subordination? Have I?
I heard frantic screams today, noises from the throat that were beyond the human through which they were passing. I stood at the window watching a man that was watching events unfold, couldn't see anything else except another man kneeling down on my side of the street being ambiguous, at the same time related to but bored of the action. The howling continued, male, female, male, female wailing, until it became entwined and indecipherable; they gist of it was 'stop it, stop it, don't don't' then I swear I hear something about a gun, there was some thuds and only the woman's tones remained. Piekna came in from the other room and looked for a while, until we both grew bored and went to cook boiled eggs.
When I sit at my desk at work I feel so in between, clogged betwixt power and laughter. You see I'm in charge; I'm not sure how that happened either. Their heads flick around and they curse me with their eyes: questions, questions, questions, pointless, banal questions, and herein lies my problem: I don't care. As a mere peon in this clouded malaise of existence, I am the oracle, the one who has responsibility over the lives and choices of my underlings; and with every turned head and dribbled question, my mind is shouting, 'no no no no no, it's you, it's you, YOU who should decide, grab your face in your hand and steer it, I don't know the answers, any of the answers, you are your God, don't live in Bad Faith'. The consequence of this is twofold: firstly my colleagues think I'm insane (ha ha the Irony ;-)) and secondly it makes me consider the fact that I may not be a natural leader, I just don't care enough; these minor work concerns mean nothing compared to the things that go on in my head, not in any sort of grand transcendental way, but in the most mundane way possible, if I find planning my own suicide boring how can I care about an IT issue or a customer complaint?
But hey, it's a new year right, maybe this will be the year that I will be able to stifle my natural inclinations and stuff them through the narrow vein of work and convention like the rest of you.
MG
