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The World looks like one of those crystal-growing kits from the science store at the mall. Spiky. Silvery. Crusty. And, thanks to the buckets of rain sluicing down... slicker than snot. If you'll pardon the expression. It's a miracle I haven't taken the tumble onto my sacro-iliac at some point. The Wise Powers That Be here at the Gulag decided that the best way to show profit, is to cut all of the corners possible... including ditching the contractors that plow the parking lot, and clear the sidewalk. This will reap big profits... especially from the truck driver that took a spill immediately after getting out of his cab at the loading dock. And had to have his skull stapled at the ER. Ouch, there goes the Christmas bonus! PeckerHeads... and they ask me why I have no ambition to join the Yuppie Club. Probably the same reason I didn't graduate... I saw the future and it bored the living shit out of me. Or shamed me, either one. Funny, when being lectured on drugs, "peer pressure" is always the prime suspect. What's so different in the race for ridiculously huge houses in the "right" neighborhoods, a trophy wife, trophy kids, portfolios, club memberships... fuck, even what passes as fashion? Just blowing smoke up your neighbor's ass, basically. Impressing others... what an excuse for a lifestyle. Grrrrrrrr. Just a little grouchy, today. Ellie decided to stay home, and was there when I awoke. I entertained similar thoughts, until the distinct impression that we will never be more than roommates got through my dense cranium, my presence an intrusion. Not even a spark of possibility. Opportunities lost... my epitaph. In fact, with the cooling of my own marriage (Miss Jane's midlife loss of libido, namely), it's like being a virgin, all over again. Nervy, fidgety, crabby, zitty, inarticulate, inappropriate (Avoid these Elves!)... and, yet, still incapable of stepping out on her. Self-doubting what kind of man I've become. If it all turned around, tomorrow, I don't think the attraction remains. It's come to this. There is no payback, after all, for doing the right thing. Noble, in the graveyard. Let's see... less than three hours before the 84 mile trek in the Ice Palace. This could be interesting. |
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