Lag Time

Nothin' to say

Holy holy. Where?

Have we been abandoned?

Oh these fuccking questions. We have to ask them, I guess. It appears to be the human condition to ask why. But is it necessary? No one can give the answer. And it seems that if there is a God he is incommunicado.

Trails of pilgrims, Nitzsche, Jung, Kant, Camus.. They haunt me. Because where and why are so subjective. Reality is subjective. We appear to make our own reality. But somehow we still strive for answers outside of our selves.

If God created us why are we so full of question. Indeed, freewill allows us to question "authority" to question anything. But if God created us what purpose does it serve to give us the need to question Him?

None. No purpose.

Perhaps, if there is a God, He intended this... Maybe he didnt want the responsibilty. And who can blame Him? We are complex, troublesome and fearful beings. We love so intensely and hate vehemently. Like we humans with the AI, did we become uncontrolable? Intolerable? Does He regret it? Is He dead?

Slippery

You slipped. Or rather.. I let you slip. Like a wet baby you squirmed with delight at the feeling of my hands and the warm water I bathed you in.

Thank God youre a good swimmer. Thank God you have a natural buoyancy.

And how buoyant you are!

My baby boy.

But there comes a time when a man can no longer be a boy. When Mamma has to let go. I know youre ready - I know you have been for a while.

Im not your Mamma, but I love you like I would if I was.

Serpentine

Last night I had a dream.
Of course I dont remember much of it.
I do remember being with my ex-girlfriend, Jen.
We were getting along and being close and got intimate.
Usually when I dream about sex its about the feelings and it is vague and not very well detailed.
But this was different. It was mostly about specific actions; using my hands, maneuvering my fingers, flexing or stretching my tongue.
While stretching my tongue it morphed, it elongated. But it didnt stop there - it became serpentine and somehow organic, like a vine with a (forked?) leafy tip.

I tried to live with it for a while - playing with different methods of containing it in my mouth.
I decided it was too freaky for people to see and too difficult for me to hide - it had to come off.
I thought I would try to simply snip it off with scissors but upon examination of my tongue the idea was tossed.
My tongue had been infected with some sort of organic growth - a large portion of it covered with a dark, bumpy mold.
I realized I would have to be medicated for this infection and cutting it off would not only ruin my tongue but might not remove all of it.

I tried, and failed, to contact someone at the doctors office about it.
Jason drove me over and I got in just before closing...

No Joke

For the last hour my boss and the rotund, Christian payroll controller have been interrogating a nearby coworker about paperwork.

Paperwork, it appears, is a dangerous and slippery slope in the world of ISO standards. If any member of our company decides to use a piece of paper in his or her work area it must either be labeled as an official document and must display the most recent update date or version number or revision number; or it must be signed and dated by the workers immediate supervisor.

Apparently, in this company, Supervision is code for ‘Upholder of ISO Standards’ and has very little to do with actually being aware of even having subordinates, let alone being aware of what they do – other than using the correct version of a piece of paper.

The enforcers have taken a break for lunch and as the sausage-panted payroll gal disappears around the corner my lanky and neurotic boss returns partly to commiserate about the inquisition, partly to ensure those who were not eavesdropping then are now.

And I continue gorging myself on reheated frozen pizza - because I have nothing better to do.

The pair will be back. They are warming up for the crusades of superior documentation skills visited upon us by an outside, presumably more objective, standard enforcement group. This is only the beginning, you see. Two weeks from now our company will be subject to an external ISO audit. Typically this is done internally once a year and externally every five years.

In my 10 years of telephone-based office work I have never once encountered the term ‘ISO Certified Company’. Yet this company is convinced the certification is the benchmark of quality business standards. Odd indeed.

All of this forces me to wonder – what is the point? It seems the cost of devising, revising and ensuring these standards is grossly over-inflated given that no one I know has ever heard of such standard adherence.

Fortunately I have today’s crossword puzzle hidden under piles of re-revised forms and documents with dates ranging from 1996 to now. People bring me paper. They deliver it as some sort of shortcut, some coveted secret video game cheat. Here is the answer to all life’s questions. Please make sure you put this with the rest of your documents. No, there is no organization to them. Use what you need, recycle the rest. But please do not display anything out of date or unsigned. We don’t care where you put it really, just not in sight of auditors, internal or otherwise.

I do question what a bigger waste of money is; spending numerous hours enforcing irrelevant documentation and procedural standards, or employing me to verbally berate undereducated men for being illiterate and unreasonable.

But for now I get paid, the bosses stay busy with their standards and customers have mommy to help them build the wall.

I heart my Rocket Man

Anchor

I want so much to say something clever and attractive. But instead my mind says things it ought not to. I dont dare repeat its message, except to say that I miss you. How many days does love take to make a move?

I am bitter and tired and tied to this past where one sacrifices another for self preservation. What is it? What is it about this place? Somehow new but vastly familiar to our primitive minds.. It is as if we are being directed to review, parhaps by Rassayana, the things we overlooked. Or was it this time magic?

I dont really care.

I am happy and I am free and that means the world to me.

So what if I cry and yell and pine? What is life if not for love?

I say most definitely these question marks serve as bouys. And we are nothing if not able shiphands. No sea is knowable - who can read water? But experience and an eager eye for navigational clues to what lies ahead makes us ideal candidates for being the first to sight, and conquer, land.