All The Wrong Topics dot com

Printer’s Devil

i have been Here for too many years i suppose, but there are too few good places to weep anymore, even though one always wants it to be the performance aspect of this lunatic asylum… no moon to speak of on this eve of wicked gifts, with predisposed patience enough to cover my wages while the rest of my mind writes off the downtime as mine, wandering curious to oblivious while the day whittles away the fibrous funds… the birthday suit fits fine, but was there ever any way for me to better track the time, without a post-it to make my decisions for me… i do more than merely fetch inks and type, and kill myself by the solvent stink, i also create flags and banners from scratch… something my supervisor doesn’t do, and the others i work with are far too busy to be able to do my job for me, the printer’s devil at work perhaps… maybe i am some lesser aspect, or greater aspect for that matter since we’re being hypothetical, of that patron demon of scribes Titivillus while i work the printers role Here… it makes wonder how much of this is the living mystery play about it, that fascination we see glimmering in others eyes as it does in our own when a gratifying vision comes into view, and it seems only a matter of time before the vision becomes real and takes on the life of its own… the villain fills my shoes sometimes, it has only recently become my assessment of the situation both at home and at work, but mainly when i have figured that work mode was the focus for this frustrating energy to begin its journey… where i work i am one of five now, and i am the only one to fit the role of the production artist, whatever title that would be… my supervisor knows a little bit more about the actual printing games that business-people play, passing the bullshit around until something actually works to size, but his managing of the printers could fill most of what i do… the other side to this situation, one of a few sides i might add, is the seamstresses who do the bulk of the manual labor throughout a day… since there are three working now, much gets done in a day rather quickly, and only occasionally do i have time at lunch or break to do any writing or reading… i feel like now i can combat the rest of those inane feelings and habits mocking my resolve and integrity towards my work, with the idea of a printing demon gremlinizing my abilities, it seems far easier to avoid the pitfalls i normally associated with trying and failing and wasting materials… if i can afford to tarry this in my favor, then maybe a raise doesn’t seem far off the scale, but we must have patience to guide us further than we think we can go….distance never really matters anywhere you are now… sometimes the greatest gift is the present of your presence, as the sleeping rest through the drifting lapping waves of struggle, and i wander dreamily shrugging as though the intent were ‘i cared and this is what i get’… to call this place a hellbox where all the wasted pieces fall, and then taken to be melted together to fill the machine again, to make more phrases with which we speak and chatter together… we still utilize this grotesque adaptation of a system to further plunder and suck from a cruel world, and any safety can only attempted by one or by all, always moving forward presents the opportunity to dismiss failures as progress on the way to moving forward… we demean ourselves if we tread backward through the thick negative mistakes that try to anchor us at all, their hooks do not have to inevitably hold us in place wherever we are, but only wisdom that speaks loudly enough ‘keep going on’ find true resolution has to be the only voice heard…

Thanks, khet.