A Stream of Consciousness Part 3

We live in a paradoxical world, where all the truths are sugar coated, and all lies are rationalized.  If you’re not good at something that appeals to you, it’s not your fault at all, your just fine and that activity is really just stupid and waste of your time OR if you’re really good at something, it’s because your “talented” and has nothing to do with dedication, disciple, or blood sweat and mother fucking tears…need I say more? (Don’t test me, I will).

It was best said by the great H.S.T. “Often in life, the truth is the funniest thing.”  As this esoteric quote echoed in the crispy re-fried cavities, of my THC saturated brain, I had my 3rd epiphany in life (my 1st  epiphany was that I’d get more action if I could unto a bra one handed.  My 2nd epiphany was that people would pay attention to me if I pissed on them).  And that epiphany was…I’m not going to see any money for at least a month from this place if I see it at all.  Fuck this job!

My co-worker sitting to my left, the fat chick who was just crying, who appeared happy and confident only an hour ago…started melting.  Her face oozed all over the floor and desk.  The anxiety and stress drooled out her pock marked face, which was now riddled with fear, loathing, paranoia, pressure, and Clearasil residue.  Fuck-Face was now undergoing some kind of malicious metamorphosis as he turned from Mickey Mouse, to Adolf Hitler.  The headsets became chained collars, while the monitor on the computer started growing sharp pointy teach, and the words flashing on the screen said “Stick your head in a little closer!”  Sensing I was next to be sucked into the vortex of corporate meaninglessness and mangled manipulation, I made a jump for it.  If I timed it right, I could avoid being sent to the corporate Auschwitz if Fuck-Face didn’t see me leave.  I needed a distraction, so I picked up the wireless mouse and threw it at the window behind Fuck-Face, bouncing it off so it hit him in the back of the head.  NOOOOOWWWW!!!

While I was catching my breath and talking to a bunch of paroles at the bus stop on my way home, it dawned on me that this “Gonzo” mode of expression was my vehicle to command, and that very day I wrote “The truths and lies of telemarketing”.

Continue Reading: A Stream of Consciousness Part 4