Monday

Chicks and dudes, the early mornin' phone call woke me again. I'm going in early. They pay me so it's ok.

I met a guy yesterday who lives pretty far away and who formerly took the bus to work, but since they've quit running, he can't get back and forth that easily. His calculations show that it's more affordable for him to work, and when he's done, mosey around and sleep in disused rooms in the adjoining buildings than it is to go home. So he does. He wants more hours but the department hit a budget crunch so he can't get any. This guy's situation reminds me how comparitively lucky I am, and when I get the chance to work some more I have to take it. It also reminds me why it's in my interest to come up with a brilliant plan to stop people tubing igg (immunoglobulin) and wasting it, costing my department thousands of dollars that will have to come from somewhere else (my job). Flolan cassetes are another giant waste, so I've got to figure that one out, too, or I, too, could be reduced to sleeping in corridors, running away from security in the middle of the night. It's nothing worse than what's happened to me before, but like Tennessee Williams character Maggie from a hot tin roof says, "You can be young without money, but you can't be old without it." I have no desire to be without money ever again. The TGIFriday's debacle taught me something, which is to live by the words of Tennessee Williams, who also says "In memory everything seems to happen to music" and "Luck is believing you're lucky" and "Marlon Brando in an undershirt is the sexiest thing ever." Not the last one, though.

My brother said that in everyone's life eventually something happens that crushes and destroys them, and that he felt that truth was underrepresented in the popular consciousness. He's right.
The Boy Whose Skin Fell Off But if it's true do we need to be reminded of it when it's not happening? Yes, because we could all use a moment of reflection and try to remember to be nice to people for change, but would it sell if the things people buy typically engender hope or optimism or even reluctance to acknowledge their inevitable misery and demise, which I expect is the case? Look at the sales of these items compared with the opposites.

American Splendor, gritty, realistic graphic novel versus Thomas Kincade, painter of light.

I have to get to work, but there are plenty more comparisons like that to be made.

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