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The television set in my bedroom is old as shit. The volume goes up when I want to change the channel and when clicking to channel three it, like a phantom, skips itself to channel five. It's well known that one needs channel three to watch devices hooked into the television. Or so were the days. Is it not reasonable to just get a free fifty inch plasma screened television? There are plenty to go around and I feel like I deserve it. I could watch my favorite movie on my lap top in bed but it feels weird to watch my favorite movie on the same machine I get my seemingly endless supply of pornography. There's so much porn out there we could feed the homeless with it.


Let's face it, the only way I'm going to be able to afford my plasma television set is if I get a promotion at my job. I work in the food service industry. My job is not hard. I put things in places and hand money to people in exchange for product. Sometimes I take the money and make the product right there. I'd ask for a raise for a promotion but one of my five bosses has informed me I am a lazy bones.

There will forever be room for promotion. Out there on the work force I could be the Carl Lewis of washing dishes or the John Wayne of exchanging currency. But let's face it, I'm the Mili Vanili of food preparation and the Vanilla Ice of customer service. I'm there but what's happening? I'll never be a Carl Lewis. My hobbies died with my heroes. Upper management's humanly existence is killing my friends. Everything is fatal. Everyone's getting Titanic'd. Upper management's inadequacies disappeared a long time ago. They have been replaced with formulas, thousands of calculations.

Where's my bad ass T.V.? How am I going to watch season two of the show about the people I can relate to? How am I going to relate to any one? God it's horrible to have only one and half televisions in a world where families put plasma screens in shopping carts. The kids get excited and jump in the car, peer into the back seat and see that big fucking box and think "Fuck Yeah." Who are these people?

Tonight on Channel Eleven:
The Mystery of Why Bill is Such a Bad Employee: Who Left the Rag Out?

There's no hope. Raw despondency. Let's face it, I'm better off fighting with the machines I am already familiarized with around my house. The rice cooker does its job and shuts down. The coffee make turns off to avoid killing my neighbors and me. There's no need to confuse my being with more buttons and lights. There's perpetual time for advancement. I'm insecure I won't interview well for a corporate position. My suit is one sized too big and gives way to a shaggy, careless appearance. It will be as if I was not courteous or intelligent enough to make my clothes fit me as if they were me. As if the clothes were some separate portion of myself that needs to be hidden away. Fuck it. I wear my hat backwards. I wear my pants down to my toes. I've got one glass eye that says "Fuck You" in the pupil. My shoes killed animals and children. The pockets in my pants are huge just in case I see something and really need to steal it. My shirt has a picture of someone I don't even like just so I can display my understanding and appreciation of irony. My belt is a karate belt.My other car is a 2004 Toyota Corolla. Everyone I love will get something cool if I die. At work I'm doing a good job but there's room for improvement. I hope that I improve one day even if I don't know who I am.





Out of the green forest on a sunlit day comes a ragged creature. It is the spring time and a new life comes with a new sun. He drags himself into a clearing and rests his weary being under a lone oak. His shadow is leaking and on the horizon the bugs are dreamless machines bouncing in between invisible matter. The sun pours out its inexhaustible rays of light and is stuck into the sky like a jewel or some alien door. The creature wipes his forehead and feels the chambers of his heart chime neutrally. He imagines the sweet honey suckle. There are coming days of summer, the honey suckle will be wild with insects. He imagines the exhalation of the earth.