Monday, March 7, 2016

Bills, bills, bills...

The clock on the mantelshelf says it's 7.17am. A cursory glance at the calendar reveals what I already suspected: it's March 7, 2016.

It's a Monday. 

There are shitloads of things to do. I should've worked on these things at the weekend. I should've sorted them out in my head. I needed to sort them out in my know, lay out the plans...But no. This was one of those weekends. Whereby I shut off social media, reduce human contact to church alone, empty my head of all things resembling sense and reason and just aim to BE. 

So now I sit here, watching the bloody pendulum on that clock go left right left right...inching closer to Catatonia. 

Left, right, left, right...

Then the bills I have to pay proceeded to rouse me in the noisiest way they could muster. 

Is that what we're here for? 
To pay bills and die? 

When we speak of the inevitability of getting older, is this what we mean? You know, how it's inevitable to think of bills first...before job satisfaction? Before happiness??

I know. Why right? Well, I hear bits of it these days. Things that sound like it, look like it etc.

"I have bills to pay, A. My wife is almost due to pop." 

"Chick, I have I two children. I'm not going to leave a job because I'm unhappy. My kids will be unhappy if I can't feed them."

"I've got to bring home the know how my wife can be when there's no money...I can't leave. I'd rather be unhappy than stupid."

Is that the end game?

Bits of meat????


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