taking the passive out of passive-aggressive

Tuesday, December 17, 2002

School is so relentlessly humiliating, so patehtically focused on following directions and sublimating oneself to professors you neither like nor respect, that I've decided that the whole of education is a sad fucking joke. They're big old sadists; you have to follow their rules to get through, so they make them as byzantine and inexplicable as possible, knowing that the worst torture for any human being is not knowing why. It's driving me to drink. Ahh, beer.

I have to go back to work tomorrow, but work is like a dream I wake up from in the late evening. My office is this low-ceilinged, dim space around which Baltimore sits squat and gray, changing slightly every day but not so's you'd notice. I sit and write things on the computer. I have these long telephone conversations that go nowhere. I think about the importance of market share and I look out the window and notice that, from above, the bus station is not so ugly after all. From a distance, and through the haze, you can't see the men with the suitcases going nowhere, or the discolored buildings. You can actually make up any story you want.


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