Various buzzing electrical items can be heard. The electric heater is on next to my bed, and the water purifiers in the hall emit a steady drone of a refrigerant. It’s Sunday morning and I’m awake quite early.
The few days have been good. Friday was the night out with my old work team, where I finally got a bit more perspective on the characters that make up the team. Which is unfortunate now I’m no longer there. But whatever. My ex manager was able to give me some constructive criticism but as we all drank loads I can no longer remember any of it. She did have a bee in her bonnet about me not responding to instructions in a timely manner, but then I’d fixed that by the end of my contract. If you’re not able to realise that with no way of measuring my progress there’s not much I can do about that one. In the absence of the routine of work my days have been markedly less structured. The 8 hour working day provides a structure to build my activities around, and without it things are on a different time frame. Mostly slow, mostly punctuated with the Black Phillip show. Next week does show promise thought.
I picked up a shift at the pub last night after lolling around most of the day yesterday with a hangover. I mostly figured it was a good exercise in meeting people as per. I tried the Patrice method of saying what i felt like. The blonde dyed hair Bulgarian girl that got in the way became subject to an occasional tirade of move out the fucking away bitch. This my is not my polite self. And maybe I was over doing it, but you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette anyway so fuck it. It sets the frame that just because you have fake blonde hair, big titties and a bouncy ass doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall over at the fastest opportunity. We’re in the business to lead, not lose. And with no reasonable father figure to teach those essential life lessons in the first place, better believe I now have to learn myself.
Happy Sunday yo
The Journey 