The benign and mundane sometimes makes it impossible to think. Sometimes its perfect; usually it isn’t. I took a sip of my decaf coffee and the refrigeration unit on the other side of the room came alive and the picture in my mind was destroyed. All my perfect little thoughts destroyed in an instant. That happens in other situations too of course. On the occasion I’m dumb or brave enough to talk to a woman it can happen too. Talking to a women, seeing her looks, her legs and after looking down and talking and my head shoots up again. Then the worst. A look from this creature. This lady gives me a look, a horrible and nasty look like I ripped her dress and yelled at her like a crazed lunatic. Well I’m not a lunatic but now there’s this look. Now I start talking like a lunatic and the look keeps coming and the lunacy doesn’t end either. The lunacy ends as soon as the eye contact is over but by then its too late. Along with last weeks garbage I present myself to the curb and decide my final resting place.

I need to figure out somewhere to go that doesn’t cost money but isn’t so noisy but I can’t think. I look around for some inspiration and the cars keep coming and I can’t think! Endless stream of these cars and I wonder what it would take for one of them to run me over. If was in the hospital at least I’d be in a bed but there might be some awkward questions. The wind picks up the garbage. Its time to move, and I join it. Better to be moving I think. After some time my legs hurt, but there is nowhere to turn into for someone like me. My ears feel raw everything inside my head feels like I let that women pour bleach in my open skull.

The refrigeration unit comes alive again and I am brought back from the road to work. At least I have a job for now. A collection of idiots, fools and dishonest scum under one big roof. What was I doing? I take another sip of coffee. Revolting, it’s bad coffee that’s cold from a paper cup. I drink anyways. I am lost. I am the only worker in the building. Look ye mighty and despair, I am a King among the half broken equipment. My castle a crumbling building. Once there is no one I am a ruler. The peasant with a bucket crown and stool rules without subjects. I wish I could think. Something here must need doing? My coffee is almost done but my stomach can’t handle it. The furnace begins to blow and shudder and revolt at the idea of work. It still works and so do I even though I couldn’t tell you what exactly I did.