Thursday, January 04, 2007

Time is on our side

The depression that accompanies the prospect of returning to work can onset at any time. Hours even days prior. It will hit me sometime today. I'm back to it tomorrow.

The only thing that gets me by is my professionalism.

We'd sing but the noise of the plant would drown us out. There is no music to be heard, other than the noise of the pounding or in quieter spots the static of one local radio station playing the worst of the seventies.

If I'm not concentrating on my job I'm thinking about Shawnelle. There are some twelve hour shifts where the only thoughts I have are of Shawnelle fucking other guys.

It gets me by.

I'm not obsessed or deranged.

It's a game I play. Time passes.

As I say, time is your friend. Set it aside. Or better let it carry you along. You do the thinking.

There is nothing your mind can do to stop the depression as it mounts, as your time for work advances like a dark storm. Jail Time. Best you can do is ease yourself into it, knowing that you do get out the other side, that this will end.

Death is liberation enough for the Fucked-Over.

In the meantime, there's drinking and fucking and partying and music.

And today is my day to drink. Work at 8 AM sharp t'mrow. I'm starting now. Estimated time of pass out 9 PM.

Shawnelle's just left now to go to a murder scene somewhere else. Private investigation. May not be back til late. Lot of driving. Probably grab a stress fuck when she gets in. If I'm in shape. Maybe I won't drink. Maybe I'll go down on her for two or three hours. Just take some time.