gibberish

back at work. it's ok...i guess. i'd rather be sleeping, but that doesn't pay in cash, johnny. i've been talking to coworkers today a little more than usual. complaints fly like birds up in the sky. everyone is angry, and always at the wrong things, for it would take courage and wisdom to be angry at the real crimes. so, we settle for bull sessions. "i don't get paid shit, i've been here 9 years, i've got three degrees, and they weren't that good a group blah blah blah" these conversations are worse than worthless, but they do kill time. the fact is, none of us are doing anything of value. the whole thing is bullshit, but instead of bitching about the general picture, we go nuts over the particulars. pissed over the particulars, while we ignore the big picture. this allows us to get up and pretend that we are doing something of value, when the fact is that none of this has value. it's shit, shit, shit. period. i'm in it for the check, just like everyone else. the check is the value, all else is fakery. school is shit. the kids are ok, but the institution? shit. it stands for nothing good. when ignored, it becomes tolerable. the children and i create alternative worlds within the walls, at times making the whole thing almost ok. but, these are merely stop gaps, plan b's that don't change the fundamentals. the fundamental is we are fucked, finished, the fight in us finally forced out of us by the powerful and their institutions of control. we cope with books, jokes, music, sports, sex. and shortly, the next war begins, and another guy has his guts beaten in and sent to his grave by our generals.
as i write this, kids sit in the room with me, talking about how "they can't wait to get the jordan's that come out on saturday." they are gonna cost 300 dollars. i don't even think my feet are worth 300 dollars, much less the shues, gene. such banalities fly amongst our youth. they are caught, trapped in the latest trends, their money flying away in a useless attempt to find meaning through consumerism. in a few years, it will be cars. for now, it's shoes. bullshit either way. grown up bull is no better than childish bull. the game is always the same, only the toys change. maybe one day we will change the rules, perhaps even get rid of the game itself? one day, maybe we will actually wear our shoes out and not throw them away until they are filled with holes. then, we will have peace.
hell, it ain't that bad. can't i tell a tale without presenting it as high tragedy? the students are great, my coworkers decent people, the hours good. it shouldn't feel like hell, but somehow, it still does. sometimes, in this hardy life, i just want to rest on my laurels, for i tello you this, the cost to me is vast. but, i need the j silver, and in this horace race known as life, if i don't get my hands on some grants like horace, i'm dead, and not grateful, i'll tell you that. mann, horace, education can not be reformed. we can not vivian ad-vance under these conditions, which are by no means mint. in truth, we are playing out the string, and since sinatra has the world on this same string, we need to be gentle with it. i am a gentle mann, unlike thomas, who got knicked up walking the streets of new york by a piece of wood that eddie floyd knocked. and now, in this motown known as every city, stax of problems await, and i still have things i need to get off my chess. my solution? to sit down by the riverside and sing blue notes, as i resent the prestige of talentless others who have taken us to the brink of destruction. i am a contemporary of many of these men, and while i don't want to be pacific, some of them are even more bothersome than billy ocean.
what is a poor boy to do but pour a drink and eat a candy bar at a bar? emptiness dominates. my cup doesn't fill. how many bad puns can i tell? who wants to hear that i traded in my vicki carr for a gerald ford? what kind of a helen way is this for me to spend my time. helen reddy or not, i am not a woman, and i would be lion if i said you could hear me roar. i am running out of faith. the lauryn hills are getting harder for me to climb every mountain, follow every rainbow store until you get a good deal on a pair of pants. i had to tello that joke. i can't help myself, i kneed you and nobody else. and it took the air out of you, so someone else got the fortune, sonny. you will have to settle for the trees, rollins, and the rivers, glenn.
this is madness.
when will it end?

now.

actually it won't.

now it will, after i call my lawyer, but he must get out of ty law school first. it was a ty whether he would get a law degree or a medical degree, and since he realized he couldn't be as good a wrapper as dr. dre, who he had worked with at a hallmark store, he went into law. he will help me make out my will, when i get the will to do it.
now i'm done...t.r. dunn.
i couldn't help that last nugget, which was better than anything john denver ever said. well, he went elway and i went mine, and now i will go to the john before i prostitute my art any further.

i'm gonna put monk on the stereo.

bye ya.