Random notes from a Bus Shelter

I've got nothing to say. Really. Just sitting and staring. Reading Pynchon and i think it's sapping what's left of my drug-addled intellectual abilities, hoho, that's a fucking laugh. Been listening to way to much Canadian Indie Rock, but i like it, i'm beginning to wonder if it's not some kind of Canadian renaissance going on up north, Destroyer, Broken Social Scene, Kevin Drew, some wacky women, Frog Eyes, Wolf Parade, the shit's just stuck in my head, along with a bunch of songs from the afternoon cartoons...

Debating the merits of work, well not really, i myself am dead set against work, the jobs i'm forced to attend, it's not like i'm farming the land for my survival, instead i'm forced to serve, push paper, kiss ass, be degraded for my survival, the only job i ever enjoyed was let's say a bit on the shady side but it made people happy and gave me time to sit in bars and ponder the universe or the 7th inning in some meaningless baseball game but it gave me the chance to ponder nonetheless...

Jobs, careers, whatever you'd like to call them are nothing more than some sick form of indentured servitude to the 7 or 8 mega-conglomerates that control the known universe, you work for them, your in debt to them, they sell you clothes, shelter, food, health care, in general they suck the life out of the universe and offer you the soulless, happy existence... the last things these powers want is a bunch of hyper-literate, critical thinking, drug addicts running around plotting to overthrow the local Starbucks for the free trade set...

I much prefer to sleep and go to the bar while on the clock, it makes me think i'm actually accomplishing something while at work, time to take more pills, hopefully the lazyitis i've been suffering from while lift soon or as Jimmy "the unstoppable sex machine" Carter would say "the malaise will lift."