remedial labor is not for me

Grab the plate, scrape the plate, stack the plate, grab the silverware, throw the silverware, grab the plate scrape the plate, flip the tray stack the plate, rinse the plate stack, one at a time, re-stack the rinsed plates. Grab the trays flip them over again, rinse them, stack them, rinse the bowls, stack the bowls, don't get backed up, keep scraping, keep rinsing, keep stacking, keep re-stacking. Nothing but food and napkins in the pulper, catch all plastic, wood, and bones. Switch jobs. Plates go two, one, two, one, facing forward. Bowls go in rows of three, facing backwards. Trays go one at a time staggered in a zig-zag facing forward. little plates go three, two, three, two, facing forwards. Little bowls go in a tray, cups go in a rack, coffee mugs go in a rack, Silverware goes through in a tray, Silverware goes through again in a green rack, silverware goes through again in a gray rack. big trays and pans go one at a time upside down, serving spoons go in a tray. Everything else goes one at time. Mats can not go through until nothing else needs to be washed. Switch jobs. When you unload everything goes in a cart. Everything has a place, You must wear unloading gloves. Plates go in the plate cart, bowls go in the bowl cart, trays go on the tray cart, don't stack the trays over 6 feet, little plates go in the plate cart, little bowls need to be taken out of the tray and put in a cart, cups get stacked in their racks, so do coffee mugs. Everything else gets put on the shelves, someone will come grab them when they are needed. Sort the silverware spoons, soup spoons, forks, knives. Fill the green rack up three fourths, the gray one only half way. Put only the gray tray on the shelf after its been run through. Keep doing this until its a reflex, keep doing it til you do not realize you are doing it. Eventually you will be good enough at it to pick up everyone's slack. If you cut yourself when someone else breaks something, suck it up and get to work, you are shorthanded. Just keep working. Just keep working. We will pay you someday. Just keep working.

Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box

I tried all day long to stop thinking, to clear my mind, relax my thoughts. It was all in vain. I tried to think of nothing, but then I began imagining what nothing was, what nothing means. I saw shades of white, shades, of black, shades of gray, realizing each time that none of these things were actually nothing, why could I not see nothing. Needless to say I had to change my strategy. My new strategy: I began just staring at intimate objects, but i found instead of just staring, I would begin to inspect these objects detail by detail There is no pattern in the tile, it is completely random. So I stared at the wall, at first I zoned off deep in my thoughts, but I caught myself so I began inspecting the paint on my wall, once again I caught myself. So I sat in my chair closed my eyes and listened to music, that didn't work I just focused on the lyrics and tore apart the song. So I tried to focus on the music, the melody that worked until I heard the lyrics again. So i just listened to drumming, it works. I can just listen to drumming and do a little fantasia effect in my head and think about absolutely nothing. It is beautiful, magical, relaxing.

Do what you have to

It is funny when stuff in my life starts to work out for me I find something else to be depressed about. It is like I do not want myself to feel happy, careless. I get out of the dark and I am like why is this so great. There is always something wrong, always something that can be better, always something I do not know. So I cheer up and I think to myself why the fuck are you so happy and then just think of all the reasons for despondence and I go hurling back into my cycle. Careless days, reflected upon every evening resulting in a shitty night of something like sleep and a hollow feeling until the sun comes up. I feel like maybe I can not function without this, maybe everyone feels this way, everyone who thinks at least. Maybe this makes me cynical, but I think it is the opposite a cynic is always pissed at something, I am never angry. I am only depressed because I still have hope, hope for me, hope for the planet, hope for humanity. Maybe it is naive but without it I would always be depressed always be a cynic, but with it I only feel ashamed at night. Now at the same time I could be happy all the time, if I was completely ignorant of the world, of my own emotion, of my own thoughts, ideas, and dreams. My conclusion is it is okay, maybe even normal to feel this way. Do people not say we would not know happiness if we were always happy?

look at the moon, see how it shines for you?

Tonight the moon is enormous, it is beautiful, breath taking. Its brightness is only heightened by its enormous size. I wish I could just go outside and stare at it's lunar majesty, envy the explores who stepped foot on its unknown, foreign surface, but I can not, it makes me sick. I was just outside staring up into it wondering how anyone would rather do something else then stare at it's magnificence, I got really really depressed. As I stared I realized how small, how insignificant I am, in comparison with the universe, I am dust in the corner. The vastness of everything the incomprehensible amount of space, going on forever in all directions. We will never hit a wall we will never find a logical spot where existence stops, that is if we exist at all. Normally I can come up to some logical sound conclusion that explains what I do not understand, this is not that case. Logic can only go so far it only fills so much of the emptiness. When all the logic is used up some people use faith, they say it makes them feel complete, feel whole, feel significant. I tried it once, twice, a million times. I have tried so many times to fill this emptiness, this unknown, this infinity. In and out of every kind of church, independent religion, life philosophy, moral code, logic. Nothing works. I just can not take this feeling, I know it will pass, it always passes, but it always comes back. It comes back and it comes back worse and worse, more and more intense. I want that carelessness I want that faith. I want to believe in something, anything. I want fucking religion, I want meaning, I want purpose, I want answers.

I never looked for heaven much until we put you in the ground

Its all Im doing now looking for patterns in the sound of an endless static sea.
Driving down Bristol road, definitely in my early twenties, the scene is the same except for where I-75 goes over Bristol there is a huge lake, so Bristol road is a bridge over a lake with a bridge over it. I pull up to the stoplight and see a school bus fly off the bridge into the lake. Everyone else in the world blinked at that exact second and missed the whole thing, for some reason in the dream I have that knowledge. Just as the light turns green I throw open the car door and sprint towards the bridge. The bus is still visible at the surface of the water, but no one else seems to notice it. I dive in without hesitation off the bridge, into the murky blue lake. (My need to help others?) I swim up to the bus, now sinking quickly and peer into the windows, I have no need for oxygen, faces peer back, they are all my face, all around twelve or fourteen years old, then one by one they all close their eyes (I can only assume loss of innocence or faith). At this point I am punching at the window so hard my hand is bleeding. One buy one all the little mes dissolve except for one in the back of the bus, I swim to it and put my hands on the window. It is blue and its eyes are closed. Suddenly it opens its eyes and smacks the window. I gasp and my lungs fill with water. I am now aware of my need for oxygen, I am drowning, but I do not swim for the surface. I pound the window with less and less strength. Then someone grabs my collar and I can feel myself being dragged to the surface, I look towards my savior an angelic interpretation of my mother (Some sort of guardian "Angel" perhaps). I make it to the surface and on to the pavement, but somehow no one notices my savior. There is a crowd now all concerned about why I jumped into the lake and I desperately try to tell them, but I can not stop choking up water, gallons and gallons of water. (Something to do with not being able to find what I am looking for?) The dream ends.
It is not December and it is not February, I do not know why you are haunting my dreams in January, but the naive side is telling me you are trying to tell me something. My logical side is telling me I am trying to find you, to construct an after life for you, because I think it is what you deserve.

last night as I recall it

Furiously shoving clothing into a bag and I notice a pair of shorts that do not belong to me, I continue to shove clothing into the bag. I throw the bag on the bed, it is empty, fade out. Fade in, standing near a hippopotamus, I hear someone say, "but it has rabies," I reply with certainty, "it is a very mild form this hippo is great with children." Wake up, roll around. Fade in, blackness an hour glass, sand falls through grain by grain. I hear laughter and the glass shatters. Sit up, smash my head on the ceiling, drink water, roll around. Fade in, sailing on a sailboat, it is a beautiful day, the lake disappears, flying in the sailboat, above the clouds, fade out. Fade in, sitting around a table with indistinguishable chatter, I try to interject, to join the conversation I am ignored, I recognize all the faces of all the people but I have no idea who they are. Once again I try to speak up the table disappears, I am surrounded by the chatting faces, which are now growing upwards and twisting into blackened silhouettes all with yellow eyes looking at me. I stand up and run, I am running in place, fade out. Fade in, I get out of bed and walk to my bathroom, only this is not the dorm room, this is not my house, this is my moms house. I walk to the bathroom and stare into the mirror into my moms face, I hear laughter and the mirror shatters. I wake up freezing cold get out of bed, walk to the bathroom stare in the mirror, it is my own face. I sit on the bathroom floor and stare at the tile, for about an hour. Then I puke, chug a nalgene and return to sleep. This time I am dreamless. My alarm goes off at nine fifteen, I check my email class is canceled. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling, there is a dent from my forehead. I fall back asleep and dream about the sky falling.

True words

You're a star-belly sneech, You suck like a leach. You want everyone to act like you. Kiss ass while you bitch, so you can get rich, but your boss gets richer off you. Well you'll work harder with a gun in your back for a bowl of rice a day. Slave for soldiers til you starve. Then your head is skewered on a stake.