Wednesday, January 18, 2012

#2. Part two/ or how I cannot somehow complete whole sentences.

After watching for prolonged amounts of time, I can feel the zombification coming on in. As my body slowly succumbs and becomes one with the couch as it outstretches its arms and starts to assimilate myself like some borg offshoot of evolution. And at this point, I believe it good to get up and get ready for work, before my mind breaks up and breaks apart. In the kitchen the walls are painted a dull blue, they haven't been painted over in awhile and give off a kind of retro feel to it all. The cupboards are of those ugly browns that your grandma had since the dawn of civilization.I can still hear the tv in the background as I rummage through the cupboards looking for whatever I can find. I usually make the same thing pretty much everyday. A sandwich that consists of peanut butter and jam and the usual line up of something I can just chew on like almonds or carrots or the like. After the kitchen lay in a crumbled mess of the unwanted pieces of bread that for unknown reasons decided to bail mid sandwich. I get dressed and do what I need to in the bathroom. Opening the door to the outside world is much like the supposed experience of dying. There's a bright white blinding light and than gently in the distance some figures start to appear, but in this case you don't get all the mess of being dead. A hamper on the rest of the day I would believe. Just to the right of my house across the street the buildings begin to rise up, the corner of the city called chinatown that's so full of locals and tourists alike, but a great place to eat nonetheless. The streets here are always crowded with the wide eyed and confused as they cram push and at times force there way into the shops to buy crap they will eventually discard into the lower rungs of the outside world. and It has a type of apocalyptic poetry to it all, as the buildings here are leaning on the side of should be torn down. All the alleyways as I pass by have a very human scent to it, in the worst possible way. And the walls are all covered in graffiti and cracks that seem to emanate from the very core of the earth.the coffee shops here are all asian owned and operated and mostly do bubble tea. The best I can find is a esquire that is oddly crammed in between to other buildings that appear comparitively broken . This is the usual place I hit whenever I might find myself out and about. But two streets over and to the right towards the house is a ittle fast food shop that arguably sells the best chinese food in the city, so on most days you might normally be able to find me.but back Inside the coffee shop I order just a coffee two sugars and be on my way, outside the doors I attempt to light a cigerette but the slight wind factor doesn't permit me for about two or three tries. And the people are pushy, as I try to get out of there way. I usually stop here almost every morning, not sure why, complete boredom I imagine. Seeing I have enough coffee at home to do me the day. Its getting to be that time when the tourists really  come out in hoards and have there confusion laced frenzy of which way to go. In the distance I can begin to see the outer linings of the office building. One half of it has the windows peeking around the corner like some crazy old man stocking some unknowing prey. And the city is a lonely place when your all alone, for I have been doing this for entirely too long. But this happens every morning, the closer I get the more seemingly tired I become. The problem I believe stems from the fact I know how my whole day is going to draw out. And it will be like that tomorrow the next day and until untold weeks on end. The office windows now tower over me, watching me with those disdain and judgmental eyes. And the hairs upon the back of my neck stand up. And it almost overpowers me, drawing me in like some star wars tractor beam. So I can't help but giving up, and giving in

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