work

Work, we all must work. And if you are at all normal, you want to work. It’s good for the mind and body. In The Grapes of Wrath it’s a real moment when a pick is put into Tom Joads hands and he begins to break into the earth and work. Our brains aren’t so big yet that they can handle a day or week without some physical or mental stimulant, to keep us busy. 

I had to pick out a notebook the other day, it took me three stores for some reason to buy the damn thing. It was agrivating in the isle looking at all the choices and all of them being the same, bright white with a bold blue lines breaking up the page. They really don’t design notebooks for visual thinkers. To break up a page like that is literally painful to look at, and not condusive for writing or thinking. The more I pushed myself saying, “this is stupid, just pick one, ” the more I got huffy at the whole thing. Who put lines on paper anyway? Who made all these damn “different” notebooks? How many different kinds of cereal can they make? Do I want mouse or gel? 

America suddenly and simply started sucking for me. Does anyone here have any sort of morals? Or are we all just blinking people getting lost in the supermarket, and tuning out the parts of us that need work with television. 

Maybe to develop my moral compass and mental capacity, I’ll only watch 20 minutes worth of netflicks tonight…

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