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.

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 ion the beach in last years speedos, struggling to keep their modesty in tact. 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 for that elusive pay rise.

And to think that people call me Fletchy Bear because I am so lovely. Yes, you read 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.

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 go to Paris. 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 thoughts.