.Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That
"I smoked a store-bought el-cheepo that was sent by my loving in-laws while I composed this.
I open my eyes.
Another day. I look at my clock. It’s 1800 and I have to be at the BDOC (read the Glossary) by 1900.
Fuck. Not enough time to go running. I have to do it in the morning when I’m tired. Hell, I can’t even believe I’m complaining about this, especially when people on the convoys are driving for 20 hours nonstop.
Twelve hour shifts leave me with little time to do anything but sleep. The BDOC is my life. I work there, I eat there. I write there. I smoke there. I have become one with the BDOC. The spaghetti cord of the handset wraps its way into my heart. I write bad poetry on the SIGACTS board. I might as well; nothing else ever graces its glossy white surface."
Big Tabacco
I open my eyes.
Another day. I look at my clock. It’s 1800 and I have to be at the BDOC (read the Glossary) by 1900.
Fuck. Not enough time to go running. I have to do it in the morning when I’m tired. Hell, I can’t even believe I’m complaining about this, especially when people on the convoys are driving for 20 hours nonstop.
Twelve hour shifts leave me with little time to do anything but sleep. The BDOC is my life. I work there, I eat there. I write there. I smoke there. I have become one with the BDOC. The spaghetti cord of the handset wraps its way into my heart. I write bad poetry on the SIGACTS board. I might as well; nothing else ever graces its glossy white surface."
Big Tabacco
posted by madtom at 9:20 PM
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