one last stand
Posted: September 6th, 2005, 8:38 pm
Looking about the train. The dirt, the feeling of germ, paranoia—people are looking at me they know. I get off at peel metro, and the shaking subsides a little. I have an egg and bacon breakfast—simple pleasure, that’s all I can have now. Simple solemn pleasure. Derived by living life, knowing that defeat can not always be in your favor, and not quite knowing the delusion of it ever being that way but slightly sensing it.
The waiter is old, gray. He knows, the all do. Scrutinizing eyes, shame. It is all their faults in the first place. No. It has always been the greedy and selfish. The people that felt they were misunderstood and damn them for not understanding, things are going to be my way.
Ramble on like you all thought I would I guess, boring you like the hum of a wet power line. No shock.
“Eggs.” Can he see the sweat? Dogs can sense fear; I bet old men can too. Of course the can. I can sense a good person to chat up for beer. Oh what power.
French waiter. He knows what eggs mean. This is down town. Hell this is north America.
In to work. Old man in front of office. I sit down eating a mcgriddle sandwich. McDonalds I thought, why not. Be one of the crowds. Make it in the world! Bullshit. Fat mothers steal food from fat kids. Heart attacks. Death. Just having to face it. What fun!
“you work in suit 2000?” The old man said.
“Yes.” I smile sneeringly.
“Yaw I ma waiting for a job interview.”
“h just wait the boss is usally late.” I say holding the mcgridle, should I shack his hand. I scarf it down.
“geoff” I say, hold out my hand.
“an” the old man said. Being friendly, arr, try it I guess.
geoff
The waiter is old, gray. He knows, the all do. Scrutinizing eyes, shame. It is all their faults in the first place. No. It has always been the greedy and selfish. The people that felt they were misunderstood and damn them for not understanding, things are going to be my way.
Ramble on like you all thought I would I guess, boring you like the hum of a wet power line. No shock.
“Eggs.” Can he see the sweat? Dogs can sense fear; I bet old men can too. Of course the can. I can sense a good person to chat up for beer. Oh what power.
French waiter. He knows what eggs mean. This is down town. Hell this is north America.
In to work. Old man in front of office. I sit down eating a mcgriddle sandwich. McDonalds I thought, why not. Be one of the crowds. Make it in the world! Bullshit. Fat mothers steal food from fat kids. Heart attacks. Death. Just having to face it. What fun!
“you work in suit 2000?” The old man said.
“Yes.” I smile sneeringly.
“Yaw I ma waiting for a job interview.”
“h just wait the boss is usally late.” I say holding the mcgridle, should I shack his hand. I scarf it down.
“geoff” I say, hold out my hand.
“an” the old man said. Being friendly, arr, try it I guess.
geoff
