December 4, 2008
so you think there’s something wrong with me? I deny it … I’m ok, and you’re ok. That’s a fundamental rule. The rule of acceptance.
the boy sat back in bed, red pock marks on his face, hands, legs – all the exposed skin – it was chicken pox. He was a teenager, he had caught it late.
the pain, the itching. There was one escape, into the world of novels and magic. The Magician. He would transport himself into that world, a world of elves and fairies, castles and feudal structures. A world of achievement and advancement, of greatness and grandeur. Yes, he would go there, and immerse himself, forget this miserable existence.
the pain, the scratching. He banged his head on the pillow. Pain.
it would buy him time. Time away from the school.
December 2, 2008
we all work for the coin. A payment, an increase in the bank account.
That is our way. From the humble supermarket worker, up through middle management, and into the hallowed board-room, everyone has a price. They input their labor and time, and they get paid in kind. Coins for you soul.
this ties us into the economic system. We are free to run our lives as we please, with this one caveat: you must earn the coin at some point. This digital number attached to your bank account, this is the measure of you. Your spending power, your economic might, your ability to extend into the wider world, and extend an influence. Your coinage.
I am a humble worker, speaking to you here.
November 30, 2008
Sleep. How long had it been? 3 days? Four?
it had been so long.
working the night shift can kill you. Slowly. First the mind goes, then the body. Memory fades, speech. Hunger grows and grows in an attempt to extract vast amounts of energy to keep this body going, a struggle against nature. Caffeine, sugar, quick fix burgers. Anything. Everything.
Food, food. A constant stimulation of the body.
Sleep. The travel was killing me. The cold was torturing me. Keep moving. Find a movie theater, a paid respite for 90 minutes. An escape into a movie narrative world, music and images, speech and dialogue.
a nap on the bus, not real sleep. I jolt awake. I stride home, quickly. Maybe I can snatch 3 hours of rest, before I head out again. Sleep, sleep. The coffee destroys my dreams.
work, work. The night shift.
Welcome to Hell.