The Walk to Work

Ah, the walk to work. Sunny mornings to be sure, summery hue to the colour of the day. All those little rats in the maze scurrying about. First on the wheel, first up the alleyway, first to their jobs, first to their deaths... presumably. Watching all of those people heading somewhere, like they do every morning. They all have somewhere to belong, it's amazing, really. Scurrying about. No it is. Ha, ha. I'm often to be seen head swivelling as I wander off down Bourke Street, watching the people dashing about.

The heads of capitalism have them well trained.

Oh yes, be nice, they say. Powers for good and all that. I hope they find happiness. The peak hour rats. They deserve happiness after the years they put in. 

Running on the wheel of free enterprise, running, running, running, always running. Too harsh? Luv, I ask you? Life is not all about 18 year old boy's on the beach in last years speedos, struggling to keep their modesty in tact. (although why I thought of that, um, er, even if it is an interesting thought. Let me just picture that for a minute. Hmmmm. Legs. Thighs. Bulge, balls, ah, er… ) Life is not all about the latest must have item. It is hard graft, it is putting in the hours and sucking up to the right boss, licking those arses you would never normally lick, for continuing tenure, for that elusive pay rise.

So, what if you have to give up some of your dignity, you still have a job, don’t you? Say the people in power. 

And to think that people call me Fletchy Bear because I am so lovely. Yes, you read it right, they do. Just saying it how it is. So lovely, too lovely... that's me. Would that equate to irresistible? Maybe? ha, ha, ha!

I'm writing this a piece back in the office. Yes, busy. Sooooooooooooo busy, lovely. Nice. I've got all my work done, can do it with one hand tied, now a days. And now I'm bored! Have to be careful about who has walked up behind me... but, I guess that is true of everything in life, hey?

The heads of capitalism have spies, in the form of middle managers. Generally, evil cunts with chips on their shoulders because they don’t have the possibility of progressing to senior managers, as there is always someone young, brighter, and more qualified who get those jobs. 

I'm at the salt mines for 4 weeks. Ah! Why did I agree to this? It seemed like a good idea at the time. This is where being nice gets you – sitting behind a desk, so that someone else can fly to Paris. [2008] Such a familiar story. I'm filling in for my boss while she is overseas. Grr.

I'm sure working isn't good for me, it fills my head with such terrible thoughts.

Subject: Guts vs balls

Hi Tosh, (Christian)

Well yes I liked that one. Boyfriend? What is that anyway exactly?

Anyhoo it occurred to me as my backup discs kicked – are you gainfully emplyed? You quit your job right? Am I up to date? Anything interesting happen?

My how I'm letting things go...

No tisk tisking, just interested actually. Is your life fabulous?

Me violets have arrived from England. The lady at the post counter had pitch black died Amy Winehouse bouffont but backlength hair and the face of an octogenarian, er, 80 year old. That's East German shopping mall employee fashion for you! Made me think of you.

tumn autumn, leaf leaf. Reds and oranges are gone, yellow is dropping as we speak. Fall. Soon it will be brown slush time and we will bitch until May.

Jonno (Josh)