Tuesday, March 23, 2010

their attitude toward me has not changed

This is the feel of it. I argue with my silent partner and try to get a rise out of him. I poke and prod. I have been known to misbehave badly just to attract notice. I have quit that for the most part, though I am still capable. I still misbehave for somewhat better reasons these days. I try not to argue with the half wounded, though.

Today was not a good day. They were too fast for me and I lost my cool. Twice. And then the primary asshole wanted to know why. That is a useless exchange. I have tried before. He does not see it my way at all, will never see it my way, thinks my way is beneath notice basically. I have been that guy myself before. I know. End of story. I am powerless in this situation. I run preventative maintenance on it, but as I say, it tightened up far too quickly this morning. I was left raw and bleeding and angry. I was quiet but it was not over this afternoon and there it was again, different issue. Jesus.

My twisted beady little head actually believes that I am such a nice guy everyone should recognize how freaking valuable and wise I am and they do not. Amazing.

their attitude toward me has not changed

But I have changed, yes
changed so long ago, my bones
rattle loose in me
and take me along
for night rides, caught unawares
until I'm too high
to now call a halt.

Consider my shaky verse
as cries for release,
as arguments. God
knows I argue, keeps silent
as I continue.

April 26, 2009 12:41 PM


  1. You *are* such a nice guy everyone should recognize how freaking valuable and wise you are.


  2. ((Hugs)) Christopher. Why is it God keeps silent while pee-wee's let loose their insolent cannons? "bones rattle loose in me" is such a great description for change, as so often it seems more form than attitude and I'm not really sure it was planned or caused...just is. Unhinged. Loose. Are we pliant now? And will the next molding be any easier? F*ck 'em Chris. Your way is noticed here and appreciated.

    ~ Annie

  3. Kind of sums up my melt down last week.

  4. I don't know how to measure all this shit. I am not qualified. So often both sides are right but the criteria of judgement is a complete miss from one side to the other. I judge by one set of criteria while the one in conflict with me is judging by another. The communication has to start back, way back to where all that gets formed up. There may be no compromise in that stuff possible. There is certainly no time for that kind of communication in a lot of places it may be needed.

    As a professional I have responsibility to my disciplines of work primary and company in which I perform secondary. My boss however places his company primary and the conditions of my work secondary. Most of the time the accord is obvious. Sometimes there is a conflict. It is a required conflict. He hires me to uphold the work. My need to stand fast is also a condition of employment. If I give in, in the long run I will be of less and less value to him. When we talk of this as peers he agrees. This doesn't matter when he has the ownership hat on.

  5. I saw a cartoon once with a treeful of buzzards. The buzzard on the top branch was pooping on the buzzards on the next branch down. They were pooping on the ones on the next branch down, and on and on. Bottom line: shit runs downhill. I hate it, but it happens all the time.

  6. No shit!

    I'm sorry, Lord, I apologize for that. I couldn't help it.

  7. HA! Sorry, laughing at up above.

    And so it is that we keep learning of ourselves and one another? I wonder what we would do with ourselves if we all got on well and were quiet. I wonder on the nature of our disquietude and the work we do here, if friction is necessary? (I wonder, too, if sentences with wonder are in fact questions, like here, again? Or am I just thinking...)

    And yet, I want to take a wet rag and wash your poopy head. I'm sorry it was a rough day:)


  8. I think it was not near as rough on me as the poopee as it was on the pooper. He lives in a higher stakes world than I do. He rides on financial risks that I don't face.

    What I really hate is when the buzzards are in my own head. Typically they wake up earlier than me and start messing around. When they finally wake me up they are already perched and alert all around me and have an agenda. They don't wait for me even. I have to break into the discussion midstream while I clear cobwebs out. They are not interested in my feelings, nor do they care that I lose sleep. Bastards.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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