Monday, July 12, 2004

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incest and chili

didn't fall into bed until about 2 so i set my alarm for 6 and slept through 7-minute Snooze intervals til around 8. this means i will furl under the sheets for another 10 or 15 thinking of my naked mother dressed the way i want her and come to a tingly orgasm, at which point my life is dredged back on me like someone pushing coffee through a Bodem. Splush. The only escape is that I'll be late if I don't rush, an apocalyptical event which might result in a missed hello. The receptionist doesn't say hello after 9 am.

there's old rick in his corner office, chewing on his nails and resting his chin on his hand, staring at the computer monitor. he sits at a small desk, dwarfed more by the emptiness of his office. i have never seen him do anything in his office other than stare at his monitor. sometimes documents will sit on his desk for three months before he looks at them and scripts his two initials on there, with all the perfection of a man who's signing a document with his eyes closed while getting a blowjob from one of the forty dollar hookers who troll out back, near the dumpsters. one i met, melinda, and she has one eye.

nothing to do today. but it's only monday. i have a bunch of books open on my desk, and most mornings i pick them up and rearrange them, and sometimes turn the pages to avoid dust. then i gather up my breakfast supplies: some tea, my flipper and a peach. the flipper is for the eggs, which i poach in the microwave. i don't really need the flipper, but i got an insatiable urge to bring it in one day. i cook the eggs in a plastic, square container, and halfway through the poach i take them out of the microwave and dig my flipper in there and flip them over, ensuring that i get all the residue off the edges. then i put the flipper in the sink. then it's time to cut the peach. but oh, weekend banter time.

"hello."

"hello suzanne."

"what time did you leave on friday?" suzanne is a manager, but not my manager. i ran into her while i was drinking alone on friday.

"Oh, about seven or so. when did you leave?"

"oh, about 5." today, suzanne is making cinnamon toast.

"5 am?"

"yep."

"did you have fun?"

"i always have fun. it's a rule of mine."

"cool."

"yeah, but today i'm so _tired_."

"hey, me too." i rub my eyes so she can see.

"and i'm not ready to work yet!" and there's the big shucksy smile.

"yeah, work sucks." the microwave beeps. suzanne smiles and leaves. i remove the eggs, and then it's time to peel the peach. i put the peach on the counter, sort of whisk away the crumbs on the counter with my hand, and start slicing the skin off. bits of skin, juice and pulp spread over the counter, and melanie comes in. melanie is clearly disgusted with my peach mess, as she is with all mess, because she's had about six facelifts. she eyes it and takes her apple over to the water cooler, and starts slicing it on top of the water cooler. makes sense, because there's about 50 feet of counter space.

"they don't dust up there." and that's all i needed. she walked right out of the kitchen and didn't even look at me.

i drew several things at my desk today: a duck, a duck without a head, and a box. i even drew the corrugated box edges where the flaps were open. i hid the headless duck behind the box when i was done. at about 11 i think i felt new cellulite blop in my thigh, and that did me in for a noon-hour gym trip. i stayed at my desk munching on cashews and rechecking my e-mail boxes.