Standing in the Way of Control

Hah. My job is trying to kill me but I elude death once again, for I am made of stern stuff. I fear no workload no matter how overwhelming. Short-staffed, underpaid and over-caffeinated, I’m taking on all callers like Jack Johnson.

Bring on the criminal youth clients who are caught masturbating over the body of a small cat that they just finished mutilating and then set on fire, throw your dysfunctional families or desperate immigrants fleeing death squads into the mix. It’s all under control. Deadlines? All I need is a day to work my magic you bastards. One day.

I spit my broken teeth into your eye and shout “is that the best you’ve got?” There’s no stopping me.

New blog person trudges to work, tries to write about it and avoid cliches

Another one of those Vancouver mornings where a.m. blue sky and weak p.m. starlight the day before gives way to slate gray skies and weak drizzle. People march across bridges clutching travel mugs full of cheap coffee looking miserable. Lady on the bus today, expensive suit, unopened paperback clutched in her lap, simultaneously scowling and fighting back tears. Office drone sits in traffic in a shiny rain-repellent SUV with Pink Floyd blasting through open windows, checks his hair plugs, scratches himself and sets the controls for the heart of the sun. I liked the older trolley buses where you were a little bit above the traffic and couldn’t see into the cars.

Another morning commute spent resisting the temptation to get everyone on the bus to join in a rousing rendition of Whistle While You Work. I get to count myself as a member of this-blessed-plod, these proud few, these happy few, this band of brothers (and sisters).

Today’s Music so far:
Tom Waits: Low Down
TV on the Radio: Blues from Down Here
Coleman Hawkins: Picasso
Clap Your Hands: Some Loud Thunder