I went to traffic court. When I got there I recognized the parking lot from a dream. It resembled where I was driving through a lot around a canyon perimeter.
The middle aged deputies are sitting in front of the metal detectors are hall monitors. I consider asking for directions on what to do, but then I realize he's not a member of the service industry, he's a member of law enforcement. Not really threatening enough to worry about, but then again don't press your luck asking dumb questions. No one else is.
I'm feeling uptight like I'm back in eigth grade again.
A chubby goateed guy with glasses - one lens split in half - says, "This is crazy man... look at this. I can't believe this."
It turns out this guy got busted for flicking his cigarette out his window. This is some lame-ass watered down convict talk I'm thinking. I can't think of how to make my illegal U-turn sound good enough.
So I'm sitting on a bright orange plastic bench. My eyes are drawn to the asian women and the curvy mija booties like a creep.
There's a guy in the crowd with third degree burns all over his face. I can't tell at first if he's mexican, black, or samoan. Then I hear him speaking spanish. I try to imagine if he tunes out his self-perception to be more comfortable.
Old aches surface, reappear.
It is not pleasant to feel like some flunky quasi-criminal. I'm back with the people from my community college era.
At that time there were all these jobs I had. Almost a dozen.
I quit them all.
All it took was a moment. You might have had them before.
Moments like paying $5.00 for an overpriced deli sandwich when you only make $5.00 an hour yourself. And the next hour all of the stress of running around dealing with the "fuck-tomers" as one co-worker calls them. A guy points the pump at you, chokes the handle and gushes gas on your Mobil shirt. "Huh-huh, you better not be smoking!" Yeah, haha mister, go drive off in your Buick sedan now and leave the gas pumping peon alone.
All of that shit in the last hour for that one stinking sandwich.
Then there are moments when you're sitting on a sidewalk in Long Beach after one of those grateful dead parking lot experiences. A lost on mushrooms kind of time when your friend has the car keys and you've spent who knows how long wandering from the concert back to the car because you couldn't take the blinding sunlight hippy trippy experience anymore.
So then it's all chill. Time to look at the sky, to sit by the gutter, lay on the sidewalk and put your barefeet on the grass. There's an old mexican guy looking at you like you're a freak. It kind of makes you feel wierd but that's allright.
And just suddenly you realize there's no reason to ever go back to that crap job. Well, maybe there is actually, but at that moment it's very obvious you don't want to and in the big scheme of things there really isn't any good enough reason to go back. It's just not worth it.
You don't have to.
And so then the next day you don't.
No call. No contact. No explanation.
Just don't show up anymore.
It's a great feeling to just decide not to deal with it ever again, just like that. And you even feel grateful when they mail back the last paycheck you didn't even expect.
Those times don't go away. They sink beneath and float around.
Sometimes it takes time on the couch to remember.
Laying on the couch listening to music to come back to the richness of fertile seclusion.
I went back to an old haunt today - Tower records.
I got a bag of CDs and was chilling like I used to when I'd laid on the couch and listening to music.
No TV vegging or internet distractions tonight and it's refreshing.
You don't realize how sad and tired you are until you sit back relax and feel it.
It's not sad like a knife in the heart, broken arm, bleeding shrieking aliveness pain.
It's more like time spent being beat down by the world day by day.
Trudging along bruised, stiff, numb.
It's not that bad, but in the ways that it is, it is.
My current job is starting to really suck ass.
Not bad in the sense of previous life of jobs but bad enough that I've been really aware of it for almost the last two months now.
Just your typical corporate whore, lying scumbag kind of blues thing.
Go watch Office Space if you want to understand. There is a Lumberg in my life.
Just trying to keep it all in perspective.
The middle aged deputies are sitting in front of the metal detectors are hall monitors. I consider asking for directions on what to do, but then I realize he's not a member of the service industry, he's a member of law enforcement. Not really threatening enough to worry about, but then again don't press your luck asking dumb questions. No one else is.
I'm feeling uptight like I'm back in eigth grade again.
A chubby goateed guy with glasses - one lens split in half - says, "This is crazy man... look at this. I can't believe this."
It turns out this guy got busted for flicking his cigarette out his window. This is some lame-ass watered down convict talk I'm thinking. I can't think of how to make my illegal U-turn sound good enough.
So I'm sitting on a bright orange plastic bench. My eyes are drawn to the asian women and the curvy mija booties like a creep.
There's a guy in the crowd with third degree burns all over his face. I can't tell at first if he's mexican, black, or samoan. Then I hear him speaking spanish. I try to imagine if he tunes out his self-perception to be more comfortable.
Old aches surface, reappear.
It is not pleasant to feel like some flunky quasi-criminal. I'm back with the people from my community college era.
At that time there were all these jobs I had. Almost a dozen.
I quit them all.
All it took was a moment. You might have had them before.
Moments like paying $5.00 for an overpriced deli sandwich when you only make $5.00 an hour yourself. And the next hour all of the stress of running around dealing with the "fuck-tomers" as one co-worker calls them. A guy points the pump at you, chokes the handle and gushes gas on your Mobil shirt. "Huh-huh, you better not be smoking!" Yeah, haha mister, go drive off in your Buick sedan now and leave the gas pumping peon alone.
All of that shit in the last hour for that one stinking sandwich.
Then there are moments when you're sitting on a sidewalk in Long Beach after one of those grateful dead parking lot experiences. A lost on mushrooms kind of time when your friend has the car keys and you've spent who knows how long wandering from the concert back to the car because you couldn't take the blinding sunlight hippy trippy experience anymore.
So then it's all chill. Time to look at the sky, to sit by the gutter, lay on the sidewalk and put your barefeet on the grass. There's an old mexican guy looking at you like you're a freak. It kind of makes you feel wierd but that's allright.
And just suddenly you realize there's no reason to ever go back to that crap job. Well, maybe there is actually, but at that moment it's very obvious you don't want to and in the big scheme of things there really isn't any good enough reason to go back. It's just not worth it.
You don't have to.
And so then the next day you don't.
No call. No contact. No explanation.
Just don't show up anymore.
It's a great feeling to just decide not to deal with it ever again, just like that. And you even feel grateful when they mail back the last paycheck you didn't even expect.
Those times don't go away. They sink beneath and float around.
Sometimes it takes time on the couch to remember.
Laying on the couch listening to music to come back to the richness of fertile seclusion.
I went back to an old haunt today - Tower records.
I got a bag of CDs and was chilling like I used to when I'd laid on the couch and listening to music.
No TV vegging or internet distractions tonight and it's refreshing.
You don't realize how sad and tired you are until you sit back relax and feel it.
It's not sad like a knife in the heart, broken arm, bleeding shrieking aliveness pain.
It's more like time spent being beat down by the world day by day.
Trudging along bruised, stiff, numb.
It's not that bad, but in the ways that it is, it is.
My current job is starting to really suck ass.
Not bad in the sense of previous life of jobs but bad enough that I've been really aware of it for almost the last two months now.
Just your typical corporate whore, lying scumbag kind of blues thing.
Go watch Office Space if you want to understand. There is a Lumberg in my life.
Just trying to keep it all in perspective.
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
any xxxmas planz?
s