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Chillaxing...

    Ever wake up wishing to roll over and remain there? I do. Every day comes complete with so much bullshit and grievances that life actually seems to get progressively worse.

    Ever feel like everything is on you shoulders and its getting harder to breathe? I feel this every waking minute. Ever try to get anything accomplished at a government building? Better yet, any of you college grads ever try to transfer to a different school? The stench and burden of bureaucracy is enough to choke you. In a society that pushes go go go, we're forced to slow down and wait with thumbs up our asses because the lady behind the counter is so sick of her job that she can barely hide the fact that your existence makes her nauseous…like its my fault that years ago she fucked up all her prospects. I for one just want to chillax. I want to wake up and be able to lay on my couch, an arm’s length away from a drink, a remote control on my stomach and just laying. I’m talking about a perfect state, when your heart rate is decreased, your breathing slowed to a bare minimum and your brain left passive… is there something wrong with this? Hell NO, not when the world is populated with morons intent on dishing out attitude and frustration because they’re not happy with their lives that suck ass on a donkey! (that’s a lot of ass).

    Recently I worked in a large bookstore, an experience that left me wondering why some people are allowed any amount of oxygen. Here’s a large chain, international at that, and they can’t even run a single store. 15 different managers trying to maintain a balance for over 100 part time workers, so on any given day I’d be scheduled to work 3 different shifts at the same time, on three different floors. To make matters worse, if I decided to choose a particular floor I would get two and sometimes three managers in my face yapping on about following company policy. Then there’s the almighty example of mental retardation, namely the customers. I never thought that kid from Deliverance, you know the one with the banjo, could have so many relatives, but evidently those inbred fuck nuts are everywhere. There I’d be stocking shelves, thinking of exams and papers due and generally working as hard as I can, when someone comes along and says, “I’m looking for a book. I don’t know the author, or the title, but the book is green Ok, you fucked up jack off, I’m standing with a box in my hands in a store with 500 thousand books, but I know exactly what you’re looking for considering that top notch description. I mean you should be writing travel books, “In Florence there is the Duomo….it is really big”. Do I look like kojak or Colombo? When did you need to be a private investigator to work retail? I have to be honest, half the time I’d just shrug and say, “sorry I don’t work on this floor.” And I’d drop the box wherever the hell I was and just head over to my second shift. I’d like to think that I can live and enjoy my twenties without losing my hair…but I just don’t know sometimes with these people. Are there really souls out there whose only purpose is to make other people’s lives a living inescapable hell?

    Poets like Wordsorth, William Blake, and Samuel Coleridge knew what I was talking about…they all thought that Childhood was the heavenly state, a perfection in our lives we’d never get again. So what’s so wrong with going back to that? I understand the need for work and responsibility but on my own time I want to do what I want. No families or girlfriends nagging, no bosses pretending to be my friend so that they can fuck me with ten extra hours of overtime….I just want nothingness. The pure and simple beauty of collapsing into a couch, shutters drawn, lights down low, snacks and television. Man-child at peace with machine, with nothing to worry about except cartoons and maybe the occasional porno. Tom and jerry, Gi joe, transformers, dukes of hazard, Welcome back Kotter and Mtv when it used to play videos. Television is a fantasy world. Now please let me enoy it…leave me alone.

Mas Ifloic

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