Thursday, September 2, 2021

When We Were Organized, When We Were Fired

 My black cats, my grey cats:

For my birthday Windows dropped the turd update I'd been given the choice of eating or not and I said no in my laptop's toilet on my birthday. Is now as fast as the Tandy I bought at radio shack
The fourth finest metaphor abounding pertaining to my life is my birthday annually falls on the worse and hardest week of my work year and I work hard on my laptop, if now not fast
I've been writing about work here because I think my finest metaphors abounding pertaining to my life are your finest metaphors abounding pertaining to your life
Not a solicitation of you personal finest metaphors abounding (or their rankings) but not a rejection of them either, thank you digital beloveds, you are Kind and generous
My first impulse was search CNET of best laptops and saw a rig by Lenovo I asked SeatSix about but in a break from personal fine metaphors abounding I've got surprisingly good at limiting impulse buying, I mean I work in a library, if I want the book forever I can buy it for the reread
My boss gave me seventeen hours to edit and update a policy manual I'm not responsible for and when I turn it in I'm told I clearly didn't give it the time and thought it needed
I started yodeling in 7th Grade when I first met Future Farmer of America 9th Graders at Saithersburg Gunior Jigh Hool about white crackers and christers, I did not think in 1972 it would take until 2022 but the fucks will have complete control by 2024, do you know there are people who don't think professional Democrats aren't in on their emasculation through deliberate shitlord media's both-sidism over the past five decades and that a shitlord won't sixteenth of an inch raise an eyebrow to an enraptured cracker cop who will kick the living shit out of your ass?
Get it wiped and reinstalled, get ready for next Windows failure, 787th finest metaphor abounding, where's it on your list?
I need a month just me and L and no digital contact and wonderful day hiking and gorgeous light-pollution-free night skies in a big sky meadow and none of the digital noise I could but can't shut off and none of the digital noise I can't stop making

How does one live to tree time in this deadlined world?
How to monetize being an absolute prick
Prayer for non-believersOEDIPUS Rx
The whole country is the Reichstag
Skunks doing handstands!
Reminder: shitlords will authorize cracker extermination of your liberal ass before shitlords will give up that seventh yacht


D. Nurkse

I went to work in the huge factories
along Newton Creek in Bushwick.

At sunset I sidled up to a foreman
tallying pallets by the red water.
At down I punched in, still fast asleep.

I camped behind my machine
like Teacher craning over a pupil's shoulder
and together we made the past, the future,
my father's death, my mother's stroke,
the Tet Offensive, the killing in Dallas.

The secret was the blade: everything it touched
became it's own absence.

I had been coached: Wildcat, General Strike,
but there were very few people
stooping under those huge klieg lights
and they seemed so fragile,
lonelier perhaps than me:

Marchesi grinning at a pinched nerve,
Tomasi with the pack of Camel Filters
rolled in the sleeve of his mesh T-shirt,
Rose from Ghana, missing one fingertip.

When we organized, when we were fired,
there was always one more factory
making ball bearings, Lucite tabs
that hold collar studs, baby spoons,
metronomes, fan belts, clock hands.

Once I walked all the way home at dusk,
kicking Bazooka wrappers and sodden leaves.

I found a hollow drilled acorn
and pocketed it, stroking the embossed lid
with the ball of my thumb: needs work.