Thursday, 28 November 2013

Boredom

 
What terrifies, disturbs, sickens, haunts the deepest dankest darkest, dastardliness in full swing, crevices and ravines of the modern lad and lassie's minds, sin waves of fear, is not the exposure to some exogenous, blistering reign of terror, ashes, sulpher, impalement, Caesarism and shit, but it is a sense of horrible self realization, coming toos the conclusion that you are bored, that this job or occupation is boring, ok, but this is not just normal boredom, like waiting for a bus or whatnot, it is boredom of the most sickening, stomach churning, timorous kind that twists your stomach into itself. Boredom is killing you ticktock by ticktock stopclock stopwatch cunt. You are dying and there is nothing you can do about it.

That be the thing with the Office Space. Everyone is so nice. Everyone is so pleasant and kind and willing to help! But it is not the sort of chivalrous cunt coming in all bells and whistles on a big fuck off thing of a horse nice, rather it is a cautious kind of nice. Let's not beat around the bush here, yous are all kinds of fuck up. You'd have to be. Yous think if yous think in reactionary terms that yous are going to be all sunshine and lollipops? You see them movies, right? Dem Julia Roberts baboom lips getting it off with the bad boy and yet, when I slunk around in de Temple Bar after hours and see the silver faced cougar trying toos charm me into alleviating her loneliness, now I'm the pretty lad that stands there lol but of course, de feminism is awesome en aw!

Everyone is nice and everyone is frightened of each other. Everyone goes along to get along. The unattractive fattie won't shut up. There's all sorts of shitty petty gossip that you can't help but find yourself dragged into, ugly stinging gossip and if yous want to go full loner, then say goodbye and watch those sharks nip away at them ankles and toes. Yous are exhausted, drowned out, crying in the face as yous pile into your cluttered automobile. By the time yous get home, you pile another disgustingly delicious kebab into your mouth and plant yourself in front of de titbox, watching some fucken fictional chemistry teacher do what you never had the gall to do. Tomorrow is different you say. Yous pack a lunchbox full of veggies to stave off de hunger. The apocryphal hr lassie with de airbag tits goes "good your doing de right thing" en aw to you, while badmouthing yous to de coworkers about being a fruitful hippie. Analyst work sucks tits. Fat, jealous cunts who sign up and take a whip to the butt. Sitting in the fresh air during break time, only fourteen minutes left, shit, twelve, oh fuck, yous take a look over and them schoolgirl lassies wander all over, the beauty of them, all sixteen and seventeen and whatnot, perky tits, tight as shit, fucken hell like, one of them looking down and licking her lips and meanwhiles yous are back in that place with those people talking that shit because that is all yous have. All we have is now. The carpet has your footprints, but the room doesn't have any of your pictures.You'll approach tomorrow, right? Right????

That unfinished novel is still on your computer. Sure, only Cathedral cocksucking well off Oxford cunts get book deals nowadays, but it can't hurt right? Friday nights come and go and all the headless hairless chickens pile into a box of ugly incandescence, scoping out a fattie to titty fuck later on that night. Is this all there is, you ask yourself?

But then your dreams take off. You find a friend and then suddenly yous start talking to him. Your own fucking gang. A gang works best when yous and your gang feel like it is yous against de world. The job is killing you. Causality, the statistician's big million dollar vegas problem. Suddenly, yous see a job offer for Africa. Yous think of just money, money to get away, money so yous don't have to communicate with people anymore.

How do you survive Office Space? You can't. I'm sorry, you will not escape with yours brain in one bit. Yous will still dream of the sixteen year old or the witchy milfy type who gave yous a wink. Yous will still lose it. So what brings a cunt a spark, a zest, like a boisterous child, to his stagnant life, is trying to expand the cracks in the subtlest ways possible. Yous are causing all sorts of mischief and nay cunt can pin it on yous. Here's a fun game for yous, try and wind up an effeminate little gamma with your views of the world, all ugly and raw and swollen and red. This is my dream. My dream is toos be out there where the landscape is scathing and exciting, when a cunt well and truly realizes for the first time that society doesn't have your interests at heart and that you should not feel even remotely bad about sticking up the middle finger and uniting with your brothers when it is all said and done. Your job is your biggest problem ken. Everything sides that is just steel breezes blowing against a stone statue.

This is what be up your ally. Yous are shamed into doing what you are doing. You have been institutionalized by the corrupt entities around you. Whereas you outside this transparent sphere, yous dream of something that cannot be measured in gold coins. You dream of freedom.

Problem: Office Space is fucking you up bro.

Solution: Make your life as antifragile as possible.

Things have never been so swell. Cunts can share some of de endorphins if you really want.

There is nothing more terrifying in the modern age than boredom. Get out of that shit as soon as possible. Look for environments where you can grow in leaps in bounds.

3 comments:

  1. Excellent, simply excellent. The basics laid bare.

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