I can’t even trust my own thoughts

so far so good in this new morning land territory with pretend barbed wire around it. the shops are not open early enough for me to grab coffees or hot chocolates beforehand. like yesterday, I have the general tasks at hand, but feel made up of stronger material. my day consists of scanning in photos for calendars (we are getting a ton of these as we draw nearer to the new year), cranking out many proofs for business cards (then they come back with corrections, or the go ahead to print them – to which I create a poly plate of these set 4-up to be run on press, or 10-up for a color copy run), occasionally designing logos in Illustrator, printing stuff at the copiers (such as greeting card type of stuff. others are getting slightly better making use of what I set up digitally and running with it when there is time), and talking with customers at the front counter, advising them to send their fonts and images along with the root file next time; they can even convert to PDF via our company program (supplied free) and it will reach our server and be run off in a heartbeat.

supply a service
make money
feel pains
feel comforts

he said- I can feel upset and ruined and she won’t even care that much.
there was a dust storm
she said – go and cover your face, your lungs need to be protected like small children.
further into this you find you cannot breath the same air from a year ago, headaches which come quicker, easier, person settling on ocean floor quieter and time to ponder personal histories, he said – I’ve been in school for 15 years now, no, twenty, off and on, all the while skipping whole classes at a time to attain extended lunch periods spent in the company of friends. the cavity you remove from my mouth comes out in the shape of the letter F. they’re all sugar teeth.
a tiny moth lands on printer paper that is leaned over the edge hanging, then flits upward in an insects hopping motion, hops again gone out of sight. two cats here giving us the privilege of knowing them, rumble on the wooden floors this time without meowing or hissing sounds, just rabbit-feet patterings and excited trots and gallops to the great lengths of apartment ends back and forth.
he jokes in hypothesis that the secret of receiving high end customer service is achieved by using code words. the code word formula of the day, for instance, might be “on the double,” or “what’s taking you so long?” this gives them a sense of belonging and adds pep. the otherwise miserable writer less actively sets a duller table.
they found him dead at the base of a tree. the tree was looking happy. everyone else was crying, but the tree, the tree was living it up and at the funeral requested they put on that song “Get this party started,” by Pink.

. . .

nightmares one by one, two by two, three by three . . . not wanting to be around people, having to be around people, surrounded by people. do you believe it as I say I love people, but don’t want to be inundated by them? such crowds start riots. survive with all parts of you. car parts of you. you read over this journal here. you think you understand me. you employ me. you brand me. you think you know me. the time passes and I can’t even trust my own thoughts.

sounds of cat food cannon against plastic siding curve of dish swooping down for grey eared small bears. half circle of dry food crunching in their strong little shark teeth. door beneath slams is greeted by cartoonish growl.

I am amused by that show the simple life first night seeing it and knowing I am easily sucked in and will be up for more next week, but irritated with myself just the same. I know exactly where the time goes. hell, I sit down for meditation and nod off 78 times probably distracting others by this but it’s as if a force unknown is overpowering me. con-centrate on breathing. nightmares one by one, two by two, three bye, goodbye, bye. bye, goodnight. buddy buddha who front porch sips the tea sincere. go grab gigantic stuffed animals for the kids!

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