Flares from Corporate America’s Shipwreck’d

“The condition of the masses, in any period we choose to select, has always been deplorable.”
-Henry ‘Hit Man’ Miller from Air Conditioned Nightmare

It’s impossible to write in here. Today is one of those Wednesday’s that would’ve came out a lot nicer as a Thursday. Thoughts and emotions and kinetic back and forth’s fly between pores in my skull and sometimes they miss the openings, banging up my cranial ganglia like BB pellets kicking cans off fence posts. In my physical existence, the movings and goings and goings of these half-way well-dressed semi-professional businessmen/women keep me twisted in a web-site hunting, Adirondack Winter weary stone glaze, searching continually through the face of my computer screen for whatever I should be looking for. My spiritual world… a void.

We had a firedrill today at work. A firedrill. The clipboard and the teacher’s voice…a schoolyard scene implanted in my head for years, back to life just in time for my mid twenties… but when you were 6 you didn’t have to worry about the monotony and desperation that permeated every step of the stairwell down eighteen floors of 225 Jackson Street. I’ve just received an e-mail saying “You all did an excellent job of evacuating all floors quickly and safely.” We did it. Hooray.

I’ve exhausted any worthwhile material that ever existed in this place. The well has run red blood dead. That’s it.



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