Temping at Lord Bafford's

Fri, 10/01/2004 — Fasteriskhead

Man, this is just great. Here I am, a B.A. in English Lit who wrote a paper applying Derrida-derived post-structuralism to Milton for my senior seminar, and what am I two years out of college? A guard working in some dumb fucking castle protecting some rich nobleman's stupid priceless scepter. Meanwhile I bet my asshole first year roommate (what was his name? Henry? Harold? CHRIST IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER), who opted for the business school, is probably off somewhere making six figures in bonuses alone and blowing it all snorting coke off of naked interns. There's no fucking justice at all.... I mean, HELLO?? Does that shithead Bafford even KNOW that he's trapped in a Humanist Empiricist-Idealist conceptualization of the cosmos? Nooo, of course not, because if he was then maybe he'd give me more than like two seconds for my goddamned smoke breaks.

Wait a minute... was that door there open the last time I came around here in my long, dumb patrol circle? Well, maybe that moron Al went in to check something and forgot to close the thing. Anyways, what the hell is this patrol thing anyways? All of us walking in circles protecting things that aren't ours? I mean, could you possibly make the Historo-Marxist implications clearer? When you place greater value on the candlesticks etc. than the guards then we ourselves are alienated from our human nature. I mean this is like undergrad-level stuff, Bafford you rich cocksucker.

Come to think of it, where is Al anyways? Usually I see him more often than this and he's always humming some stupid song which makes me want to suck down a nine-double-emm, but it's been a couple of minutes and uh... well christ, maybe one of the other dudes brought a joint again and they're all downstairs smoking up, leaving me to guard this stupid area alone. Yeah, thanks guys. I mean I know Bafford's left to go to town and all, but if someone catches you you're gonna be fucked and me along with you (I mean who was it that barely got acquitted from that possession charge back in '01? If anyone catches so much as a whiff of the good stuff they'll probably even laugh at me when they throw me out on my ass). Jesus I swear, tomorrow I'm going to call the temp agency and beg them to find me something better than this. I don't even care about humiliating myself in that dumb office talking to those smug receptionist bitches who look at me like I'm a piece of dirt, it can't be worse than walking in circles for hours on end.

This stupid arch and its stupid shadows. Every time I walk past this thing I get paranoid about what might be hiding here, waiting for me to turn my back. Maybe it's related to ancient archetypal fears somehow? Like the time I wrote that paper on the Odyssey using Jung's THUNK

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