quote of many colours

The nights are getting longer, slowly the people start to hibernate, and meeting up is becoming a commitment. Everyday tasks take longer, and before I knew it, I was having a five-hour breakfast.

When you're working 9-5, like I do (oh what a way to make a living 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton btw), it is easier to imagine the end of the world, than the end of capitalism. Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher

The lack of daylight has made me add a new habit to my morning routine: sitting in front of my SAD-lamp (that I paid great money for, might I add), whilst eating breakfast. They are capitalising on our misery. I'm longing for the self-inflicted agony, and I'm thinking about the times we all had ketamine for breakfast Let Them Eat Chaos by Kae Tempest , but I don't think that would match with the SAD-lamp, or going to work, for that matter. Now I have important, grown-up stuff to do, I don't have time for such dilly-dallying.

My actual work is medium I would say, not particularly stimulating, nor soulsuckingly boring. I would like to find the light of my life or fire of my loin Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov or whatever, but in this day and age I am not counting on anything.

Imagine how hyped you would be if you held a protest and everyone came? Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher

The thought of finding something that would make me exactly that excited seems preposterous, but one can always dream. Until then I'll have to spend my time making dollars for the shareholders to benefit from. Hashtag minimumwage.

The food at work is decent, I can't complain. The few times they have fucked it up, it has awoken great feelings in me, for reasons I can't explain. The other day in the middle of lunch, I just felt like the chicken was a little dry, and/or the canteen lady had ruined my life. The Lichtenberg Figures, Ben Lerner This chicken was the beginning of a train of thought that made me feel small and unimportant. Who am I to tell them how to prepare the chicken? Besides, wasn't I supposed to be vegan?

The same day that an otherwise insignificant piece of chicken started what felt like a quarter-life crisis, my jimmies were rustled to my very core. In my otherwise peaceful and quiet office, a coworker started to hum. No, actually now that I think about it, he was straight-up fucking singing. How can someone do that, when other people are trying/pretending to concentrate? When he came back from the loo sometime in the afternoon, I managed to passive-aggressively say (probably a bit too loud) "ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elton John." Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me by George Michael ft. Elton John

I don't think he got my point, because he continued to make an insufferable amount of noise, until someone else told him to put a sock in it. I was afraid of upsetting hin with my dissatisfaction, since my (medium) long-term plan was still to snog him at the next company party. Don't shit where you eat, I know, but the heart wants what it wants, and apparently, that is uncomfortable situations in the workplace.

There is something special about a place you have to stay for 8 hours a day, and that you can't leave, because of a fear of being homeless.

In an ideal world, I would get my money for nothing and my chicks for free, Money for Nothing by Dire Straits (ft. Sting) but until then, I'll have to unite with the rest of the workers of the world. The Communist Manifesto, Marx & Engels

Anyways, I'm sorry, I feel like I've been rambling away for ages. How are you? Did you get that ointment you wanted? Better not say it out loud, you know as well as me that They are listening. The constant awareness of the Echelon spying and listening, is like the sword of Damocles hanging over me.

Call me, Ishmael. Moby Dick, Herman Melville It's winter, the world is burning, and I'm bored.

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