A day ago I saw a video clip talking about nurth coria (deliberately mispelled) banning american tourists. ‘Oooh shit’ I thought.
Last night I had a dream… Los Angeles without warning was being bombed.
In the dream realizing there was no escape, I hoped for a quick death – for everyone.
Long day at work. Seconds after stepping off the first bus the light changes and the Saturday night Hollywood hordes cross paths at this intersection where rarely an “excuse me” or a “sorry” is heard. On the other side at the underground entrance, a small group blazes. So sweet, definitely potent medicine.
Down the first flight of stairs a tiny jump at the end and “ouch! Fucking knee.” Probably from eating shit in the skateboarding years or a spill off of his mountain bike, his left knee is now delicate. One sudden twist while carrying weight and it’s fucked for days. “Whatever” he adjusts his steps to avoid the pain. A few steps later he taps his bus pass and strolls to the next flight of steps. Twenty minutes until the next train so he rides the escalator down pulls out his phone and hits skip until he finds a proper song. In his ears now, a recent discovery, a tune he shared with his girlfriend.
After leaning on a pillar for ten minutes the train shows up. Doors open and he finds a window seat. He takes a look around and once his surroundings are registered in his mind he rests an elbow on the window sill and his hand then supports his head and his backpack now sits on his lap. “I almost fucked it all up” he thinks with his eyes closed and an ambient track flowing into his ears. Two days prior he provoked a fight that nearly ended the best thing that’s happened to him in a long time. As he dwells on the thought there is a sudden tug on his bag. The two fingers hooked around a small strap not enough to keep his pack against his person.
Eyes wide open now, mind on full alert and now standing the tug-of-war is on. The backpack now a link between both guys pulling away from each other. The thief is younger and strong enough to pull Peter away from his seat. Peter lets him lead for the door. One of the thief’s hands slips off of the pack so now he’s facing the door tugging with one arm as the train comes to a stop. People are silent just watching. A couple of kids recording on their phones. More than half of the passengers leave the train car. “Doors are now closing” over the intercom, Peter waits and then takes a few quick steps forward releasing tension on the war. The thief loses his balance falling onto the platform but never lets go of Peter’s bag. The doors close and clamp onto his arm. The train starts to roll and finally the backpack again belongs to it’s owner. The thief screams “OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Peter now standing on the culprit’s forearm looks down at him through the window and gives him the finger.
A few people shout “OPEN THE DOOR HE’S GOING TO GET HURT!” An older man lunges for the emergency door release but Peter pulls out his box cutter and fends him off. The train car is almost at the tunnel, the thief’s yelling turns into a screech, a loud thump and it fades away. Peter kicks the arm away from the door and sits back down. “He’ll never steal again.”
At the job. Halfway through my one and a half liter bottle of water, finished my sandwich and my side of slaw and it’s time to clock back in.
Last song, an oldie but relevant to the times I think.
To have a listen click > KRS-ONE
In the kitchen, a party of two. Shots of vodka accompanied by music. Both cooked. Both laughed and even danced. The results a tasty success. And dessert, delicious.
Twenty-years, half a pound of this quarter pound of that. Small containter of potato salad, large container of pasta salad.
The not so kind, “What do you mean you’re out. Im going to complain. That’s the only reason why I came” – with a basket full of other groceries.
“I said thin slice!” Pretend to adjust the blade, show them the same slice “that’s better” – the assholes.
Pushed by an ego maniac – the department manager – and the encouragement of a woman introduced to me by the universe at my brother’s wedding, now my girlfriend, I will be clocking in to work the deli for the last time.
Might end up covering a shift here and there, but it’s okay, they know that with the deli I am done.
The job. Underground, redline to Hollywood. In my ears – muisc.
When I’m home, mostly in my tiny studio, there is always music playing. A variety of “genres” sometimes in languages I can’t understand – doesn’t matter. If my inner Self, Spirit, Soul, what ever you want to call it, if it dances I listen. Because I like my music loud, I use a headset. The less I hear of the outside world the better.
The playlist below is my current accompaniment.
It’s my day off and I get a call from one of my bosses, the assistant department manager. An “owner partner” said she couldn’t go in tomorrow because of a doctors appointment. The assistant continues to tell me that he worked with this o.p. yesterday and saw that she looked at the schedule and later in the day even made a comment about who she was going to work with on Thursday. The call was to tell me to cover her shift, that he would deal with not having a mid shift. Tomorrow we get two loads of products at separate times of the day. The department needs a mid shift to cover the counter but because this person – that according to others whom have worked with her in the past, should not have been rehired – customers will probably walk away because they lack the patience or time to wait for service. One of the loads is perishables and arrives at lunch time. Some of our customers only get half hour lunch breaks.
I hang up after the assistant tells me to go in at 1 p.m.
Minutes later I receive a text. To come in at my originally scheduled time, 10 a.m., that this bad for business changed her mind, she will go in as scheduled.
The store manager must be covering up for her because I find it hard to believe the company would keep her on payroll if they were aware of her behavior. So much time and money wasted covering her shifts and worse the stress it causes the department and what it does to morale.
What ever. I feel better now. The loss of my few minutes of peace avenged.
Money is one of the most dangerous addictions, maybe more so than any substance ingested, injected, snorted and or smoked. The people addicted are willing to risk even the very planet that sustains us. Their need for money and its temporary power a definite sickness. It’s most unfortunate that for centuries the masses have been ruled by such addicts.
This tonald dump presidency is full of junkies. The link below describes what portion of our endangered planet they’re willing to destroy next.
It’s always a drag having to leave my work to go to the job. Looking forward to lunch break.
One day no more.
NEVER a drone.