Haven't "written" in a very long time. Warming up, here.
To wander forth into the desert, obedient to madman prophecies and incoherent rock lyrics, in a terminal and glorious end game - that was always how I penned the end of my own story. But then you get out there and start talking to lizards, realize you're just really darn thirsty and forget to die, going back to the city to ingest chlorine, fluoride and prozac-laden "water". It is in the attempt to escape one realizes there is no such thing.
Today I woke up with earplugs in, my wife poking me and asking how long the alarm had been going off. Like I'm supposed to know, I've been sleeping! Hobbled to the bathroom with my neck stiff and immobile, apparently I'm depleted of electrlytes again as I can feel my skin flat and light, sort of dry like when you drink too much green tea. Picked up diarrhea, perhaps courtesy of a patient's throat discharging its aerosol spittle into my face while both hands were enslaved by the corporation who gives me fake money for moving my molecules from place to place in a way that pleases them. So now I have the runs a bit, and know what to do. First, a full bar of Theo spicy chili chocolate. Next, a steamy pot of magic brown bean juice, wherein I make a show for myself of using a few less beans and only filling the pot to 7 instead of 8, that I might think highly of myself for using restraint and not drinking the usual excessive amount. I simultaneously enjoy ingesting large volumes of fluid and wondering whether or not these old kidneys can take it for long. Attempts to change are futile. I will always ingest large amounts of fluid. This now eliminates the stiffness in my neck, and I'm stitched together and ready for another 10-hour whore-a-thon where I fulfill my robotic duty as blood collector.
The drive to work is uneventful. Windows rolled down, Systom of a Down sing-a-long time goes well. Someone has put a note on my work aquarium in the break room, which reads "There's a fish in here." The tank has been there for two months. How attached have people become to ther magic phones that they don't even notice fish tanks anymore? I'm ashamed of my culture, and often refuse to be associated with it.