I read this somewhere once, and I reckon others could benefit from reading it here
when your young you don't care what the world thinks of you. then you grow up and start to worry a bit what it thinks. finally you realise that in fact, it just doesn't think about you.
that sounds pretty naff actually. it was probably more eloquently written originally, and my bastardisation has watered it down like they water down the vodka at the student union.
Back at work. in some ways its a relief, and I pity all you people that have time on your hands and thoughts on your mind and neiter will let lie. work is an anchor to reality, and i drift enough as it is anyways. unfortunatly, though i thought i would feel better about my job after taking a breakm from it, it's still the same old pish day in and out. I suspect new employment is on the horizon, in an ideal world something in a bookshop or gaming retail outlet.
Having said that...all of you need bloody jobs. and not pishy 12 hour a week ones. It'll give less time to brood on things. and what old pappa smurf/karl marx seemed to have neglected in his manly festo is that as well as being aleinated from the good stuff, your also insulated from the crap stuff. all you gotta do is trade in your dreams, and only only one that has stuck out as of late is the one where i was a border immigration control officer of narnia.
speaking of reality anchors, another good one is family. went up for the annual kilgour house party and am mighty glad i did, despite the 7.30 rise for work in the morn. saw some old friends and shot the shit with snipers on the roof. one thing i really like about going home is (don;t laugh) the smell. by no means is it the most pleasant of smells, but hot damn there aint nothing more real than driving past a farm and breathing in the fertile fertiliser.
thought of the day-sometimes it seems that all we do is spend all our lives paraphrasing
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3 comments:
Yes, Robert. Because you, as a working man, never-ever-ever brood on anything on account of your not having any time to do so. You are a ray of well-adjusted sunshine that illuminates the thirteen hours a day of spare time that I waste pursuing the dream of becoming a writer and reading every good book in existence, tempered with barbecues and football. Thank God for you, Robert. If not for you, I would have been set adrift on a sea of illusion and child-like naivete'.
I shall dedicate my life to being miserable from this day forth!
...Or alternatively I could put my pirate hat and Ranger's shirt on and go raid the Celtic Store.
Ah-har!
least i never had to sell my body for quick cash
That was the best ten pence I ever earned.
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