Boredom

Holy crap i'm bored.

Like really bored. Like shove a handle up my ass and turn the crank until a clown pops out bored.

Bored.

My First Rejection Letter

The title says it all!

Today, I receieved my first rejection letter.

Some might be devastated at their hard work being shat upon by those more fortunate; those in power; those whom we often refer to as, "The Man".

"The Man" in this case, was in fact, a woman. And though she rejected me, I very much appreciate that she took the time to either write a paragraph to me personally, or to have a personal assistant do it for her and sign her name.

I'm not bitter. It might seem that way, but c'mon, let's not lose sight of things here:

I just conned an A-List literary agent into reading the first part of my book.

Not. Too. Shabby.

Cubicle Monkeys

I don't think this job is good for my blood pressure.

Cubicle monkey, btw, is a misleading term. We don't get to climb, jump around, or throw shit at annoying customers. Which is unfortunate really, because a number of them deserve it.

Unless by "Cubicle Monkey", you mean we're reduced to crazy little rage-beasts that are tapped forever in a man-made cage.

I need to join a gym.

Coming Up

It's not that i'm ignoring you, fair interwebs. It's that sometimes, my common sense gets the better of me and I abandon this sinking ship we call The World and escape to the altogether foreign and most certainly familiar vistas brought to bear in my mind.

Which is to say there are worlds far more interesting than this.

Then again, I ground myself and stow my wings and find I don't mind this place, that face, the race that we call life.

It's calming, in a way. To see the tumultuous fog of everyday cut through with precision or on occasion, abandon, by the choices that we make and all the things we do and say. I find that when it's lifted, the haze is not as all encompassing as our limited gaze might cause us to believe. Trapped so often by the days and unable or unwilling to see beyond the haze.

Coming down is always new.

And at the end it's always you.

That face, that place, those darkened eyes behind the mirror in my head and growing clearer.

But I digress.

Life is either on, or it is off. There is no dimmer switch.

And the light is on inside my room once more.

Furry Boredom

I picture boredom as a three-fingered, red-eyed, furry son of a bitch.

He's not evil, though he certainly looks it. He just sits there, hiding behind your cubicle wall, or your bedroom door, ready to look you in the eye and say hi. Sometimes, he doesn't even do that. He just stares.

Haven't you ever been nearing the end of your shower, turning off the water and pulling back the curtain, when you suddenly just pause, notice the boredom, and say, "Fuck"?

Right then, even though you've got the rest of the day at your fingertips, you know you're not going to do a damn thing.

It's all his fault.

Sometimes, he doesn't even say hi. He just looks you in the eye, and fucks you right over.

An Open Letter To Most of Humanity

People. Honestly. Why are you assholes?

I hope your dicks are tiny and your asses are huge. Nobody's going to love you anyway.

High Traffic Area

Restaurants are high traffic areas. I've never understood the mindset of "let's make these walkways as small as possible".

I mean I don't mind the tiny booths, the crush of people, or even the wait time that most places make you endure, even when there's nobody else there.

But holy crap, I should be able to back my chair out to use the bathroom without ramming into some other poor soul trapped at their table by the location of our seating and the seemingly poor planning on the part of the management our whomever laid out the godforsaken tables.

You know when you go to a restaurant with your family and you're forced to drag too many chairs over to a table that's only meant to seat two and squeeze yourselves in while some jackass sits in a luxurious four person booth all by himself?

That's me.

I don't want to have to deal with the damn chairs just because I'm rockin' it solo for lunch. Besides.

I got there first.