The long day closes and like a freight train crossing a wasted wilderness, this caravan is heading home into the darkness, the interminable wait for the home time bell akin to waiting for a whistle to blow, the signal that we have reached our station.
My feet hurt. My ankles are strained. Accumulated tiredness pools in the muscles of my bodily frame, every minute counted down. I take my seat in the waiting room called purgatory.
Another average day to add to an average week of an average existence for me in the “happiness factory”. The great eagle of opportunity has laid it’s egg at different door. No spectre of greatness follows me down this meandering track called life. But there is no complaint from me!
Although the lifeless job strains our patience and the bony fingers of tedium claw at our souls, hanging on for grim death like a drowning man clutches a buoy and frustration grips us, intensified by the knowledge that no advancement in our current state will be forthcoming, we are in fact contented souls down here in the sediment.
No worries or ills contain us, the cares of the world pass us by as we continue on our effortless trek through the day, our only opponent the wearisome routine we know so well.
We see the powers that be, bustling and hustling through the corridors and on the floor, concern for our welfare but a passing thought, the means to defibrillate their own lifeless existence the only concern to them, the jaded husks of the floor dwellers mere mirages in the great schemes that cloud their minds and ultimately fall through the gaps of logic that all too often lead to their embarrassment and defeat.
Who would be one of them? A life spent scheming and despising those who they feel are not their equal is not an illustrious career to aspire to. They have their days of course and good ones exist but they are few and far between and the average overseer spends his day scowling, his own murky and languid past conveniently forgotten in the new dawn of realization which gripped him like a evil doer suffering an epiphany many moons ago.
I have no disdain for them. The odd star emerges from their ranks but mostly they are talent-less hacks in morbid stage show, playing only for their superiors, hoping to survive to act again tomorrow and show off their wares and further their own cause. It’s not a game I want to play.
The rest of us accept our fate like a deposed king being lead to the gallows. No fight or trouble comes from us. Our tawdry station in life an acceptable proposition and a badge of honor. We few, we happy few.
And as I am released from the confines which have constrained me for the twilight hours and I stride purposefully into the enveloping darkness towards the brighter light and my own happier existence in the real world I will forget the struggle and strain of the day and look more kindly on those who I have defamed in thought and word. I shall go home to my fortress and rest for the battle begins again tomorrow and I will gather my strength and return again to face my tormentors with courage and humour never forgetting the golden rule of life at the end of the day. It is just a job.
My feet hurt. My ankles are strained. Accumulated tiredness pools in the muscles of my bodily frame, every minute counted down. I take my seat in the waiting room called purgatory.
Another average day to add to an average week of an average existence for me in the “happiness factory”. The great eagle of opportunity has laid it’s egg at different door. No spectre of greatness follows me down this meandering track called life. But there is no complaint from me!
Although the lifeless job strains our patience and the bony fingers of tedium claw at our souls, hanging on for grim death like a drowning man clutches a buoy and frustration grips us, intensified by the knowledge that no advancement in our current state will be forthcoming, we are in fact contented souls down here in the sediment.
No worries or ills contain us, the cares of the world pass us by as we continue on our effortless trek through the day, our only opponent the wearisome routine we know so well.
We see the powers that be, bustling and hustling through the corridors and on the floor, concern for our welfare but a passing thought, the means to defibrillate their own lifeless existence the only concern to them, the jaded husks of the floor dwellers mere mirages in the great schemes that cloud their minds and ultimately fall through the gaps of logic that all too often lead to their embarrassment and defeat.
Who would be one of them? A life spent scheming and despising those who they feel are not their equal is not an illustrious career to aspire to. They have their days of course and good ones exist but they are few and far between and the average overseer spends his day scowling, his own murky and languid past conveniently forgotten in the new dawn of realization which gripped him like a evil doer suffering an epiphany many moons ago.
I have no disdain for them. The odd star emerges from their ranks but mostly they are talent-less hacks in morbid stage show, playing only for their superiors, hoping to survive to act again tomorrow and show off their wares and further their own cause. It’s not a game I want to play.
The rest of us accept our fate like a deposed king being lead to the gallows. No fight or trouble comes from us. Our tawdry station in life an acceptable proposition and a badge of honor. We few, we happy few.
And as I am released from the confines which have constrained me for the twilight hours and I stride purposefully into the enveloping darkness towards the brighter light and my own happier existence in the real world I will forget the struggle and strain of the day and look more kindly on those who I have defamed in thought and word. I shall go home to my fortress and rest for the battle begins again tomorrow and I will gather my strength and return again to face my tormentors with courage and humour never forgetting the golden rule of life at the end of the day. It is just a job.
Strange Notations From a Laborious Life 