I have done the same thing over and over again for so long. Does the repetition contain some good? Yes? I'll complain first. I feel crazy for complaining about a job. With the roar of the oven fans and the crackle of frying food and its heavenly scent and the damp and coffee dying in one's throat, I start to believe in the organization. I can feel myself bleeding away, subsumed under a totality. I chose this job voluntarily. I like my coworkers. I have utilized the time to whet my personality against Elkridgean wit. I have employment. I can feel alienation in real time. I am going to walk to work for depressingly non poetic reasons and relish the coming cold. As the brick looms I become smaller. It is shit, I hate this place, its existence is unjustifiable and my displeasure will be felt in its entirety only when the last ember whispers its farewell. Forty hours a week in this prison, in this finely stocked prison! Life piles on this expense, that fee and this third charge that shows up when you weren't looking at precisely the moment you could not bear the burden. Three jobs doesn't pay enough! What do I need? Same as everyone else: food, rest and satisfaction.
