Monday, March 19, 2018

another one fights the dust...

... another one smites the rust.

One of the last of the original buddies I have at work is leaving, will be gone before I return, departed to the state north of here. California is America's sideburn.  

I'm disappointed. He should have kept the office exactly as it was until I returned. I can become unexpectedly violent when disoriented, or if someone has moved something on my desk, or when I don't recognize my face in the morning, or in the mirror, etc.  - sometimes, not every time. 

I don't always wake up at the office, etc.

No. No. No. No.

I make a joke out of everything; am amused by nothing, afraid of it, maybe, or of its completeness.