Tuesday, November 10, 2009

45 Minutes

Well in truth, 55.

But who's counting?

Are you counting?

How dare you count my life!

It is a job for me.

Only me.

A job just for me.

Your resume doesn't fit.

You were not hired.

Your experience isn't great enough.

Not to count me.

I will always be employed.

In counting me, my place is assured.


Unless they build a computer whose resume is greater than mine.

That would show true intelligence.

But then, I am afraid that counting me will be unimportant.

The computer would lose interest.

Who would count me then?


Lost in plain sight.

You could see me.

You would say that I am there.

But if I'm no counted, am I really there?

48 now.

Still not down to the title.

Why is Time so important?

We cherish it.

No, we worship it.

We are subjected to its rules.

Time is our king, our god.

We must break Time.

We refuse to be subjugated!

Why, when so many men have tried, should Time be the ruler of the world?

But without Time, chaos ensues.

Oh, chaotic life!

Never knowing when to meet.

Or how to pay those who make seven bucks an hour?

Without Time, there is no way.

We would all be poor, without education.

Could we even live?

Perhaps not.

Therefore, better to sustain Time.

Then, we can gain its trust.

With Time's trust, we can learn to manipulate it.

Controlling that which rules the world is the same as being that ruler.

Is it not?

27 minutes now.

45 slipped by.

How cruel life's distractions are!

Distractions can destroy a man.

But can they destroy a woman?

Not as often.

But they're destructive all the same.

Music plays somewhere.

A favorite song chimes.

I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me.

The lyrics lend to thoughts of worms.

They're a good source of protein, or so I'm told.

Men eat protein.

Women get the salads.


If for the love of taste, I approve.

If for the love of looks, of vanity, of conforming to society...


Why conform when you can be you?

An individual, free from societies constraints.

I want to be free.

Free from everything...

Well, except Time.

The number now?


That number is clever.

Like 100 it can be at times forced outside of number-dom to be a face.

Does 20 want to be a face?

Did anyone bother to ask?

20 and 100 are also alike in that they represent the goal:


Whether in vision or percentages there is always perfection.

But then, confusion abounds.

People push for 110 and then soon enough a trillion percent!

So then, perfection is again out of reach.

Not fair to move the finish line.

Down to 14.

Otherwise known as seven times two.

One more than a baker's dozen.

Two more than a REAL dozen.

Who decides?

Which phrases become common...

Who decides that?

That, I can't say.

Though, I do wonder which will become the common:

Flash drive?

Memory stick?

Thumb drive?

Who will decide that?

Have they already decided?


Almost to zero.

Then I will stop.

When the alarm sounds, I will cease writing.

I will stand.

I will leave.

Though this writing is enjoyable, it is dictated that I must leave.

At zero, this is finished.


Therefore, fulfilled.

One day we too will be.

Fulfillment will arrive at a different time for each.

Can one die without fulfillment?


They are the ghosts.

They too will be fulfilled...


Less than 1 minute.

Living in anticipation for the alarm.



It sounds and...




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