Monday, January 08, 2007

like rats in a maze

Monday, January 08, 2007
i stood in line to wait for the privilege of having to sit and wait some more. all to get THEM to provide me with proof that the social insurance number i have memorized these past 23 years ... the one under which i have been paying taxes all these years ... yeah - to prove that its mine! oh FUCK! the world is indeed, stupid, idiotic, moronic. filled with rodents impersonating humans. so ... as i sat and waited ... for proof that i, taxpayer, am indeed valid ... it occurred to me. civil servants seem so much like rats in a maze. locked away behind those, tacky, fabric-covered dividers that they've arranged in some maze-like pattern. so ... it would appear to me, that those whom our society views as respectable equals those whom have dedicated themselves to the life of a rodent in a study laboratory. well ... FUCK THAT SHIT!

i watched a man walk down richards street - that big hill between hastings street and cordova. the man looked yellow. and he had hemiparesis. he walked oh-so-slowly. i found myself worrying quietly that he would fall. i surmised that he must have liver or renal disease ... and that's why he's yellow. i wondered if i will ever stop thinking like a nurse.

it occurred to me why i cannot return to nursing. i mean, besides the fact that i am a drug addict and that's simply incompatible with nursing practice. i burnt out. like ... explosive-dying supernova-crash-and-burn ... like that kind of burn out. like ... lets-gut-the-whole-fucking building-and-rebuild-type-of-burnout. like ... severe. severe. severe. like ... being late for work because we had to stop at our coke dealer on the way to work so that we can have our 2 grams of blow to snort through out the night shift in the staff bathroom. no kidding. how far gone does one have to go ... to get to this point?

i'd say this seems pretty fucking low to me. and ... yes, the colours were pretty when i crashed so brilliantly. and i felt like a soldier who's psyche did not survive the war intact. can you say PTSD? (can you get it when you already have it? HAHA). i went and hid in my little corner of the universe. and licked my wounds. it took a lot of licking ... to get them clean, y'know? and ... somethings we lose never return. and ... when i tried to return ... i just got panic attacks. i could ignore them at first. but ... as with anything or anyone that gets continually ignored, these panic attacks just got 'louder.' they would NOT submit. they would NOT go away. and that ... was the end. i cannot go back. i have no desire to go back.

i've decided i want vancouver to implement a city-wide (ie in vancouver-proper ... not the 'burbs ... i don't care about them ... haha) ban on all motor vehicles every sunday. exceptions made for emergency response vehicles - ie fire, ambulance, police - and public transit. i am simply sick and tired of assholes who think the fucking road rules do not apply to them because they're steering a tonne of metal! FUCK YOU - who do you think you are? i consider it an absolute act of AGRESSION when you touch my clothing with your fucking front bumper because you are too impatient to WAIT at the RED light! i have already been hit but a car. it will not happen again. you got that?

do you drive a car?
then you're part of the problem,
and not the solution.
lets put all cars
in a vat of molten lava.
every last one of them.

curse henry ford
and his invention!