Monday, February 29, 2016

Sometimes I think I'd be a better person if Randal would yell at me every day

:   (suddenly outraged)
  Fuck you. Fuck you, pal. Listen to
  you trying to pass the buck again.
  I'm the source of all your misery.
  Who closed the store to play hockey?
  Who closed the store to attend a
  wake? Who tried to win back an ex-
  girlfriend without even discussing
  how he felt with his present one?
  You wanna blame somebody, blame
   (beat, as DANTE)
  "I'm not even supposed to be here
   (whips stuff at DANTE)
  You sound like an asshole. Whose
  choice was it to be here today?
  Nobody twisted your arm. You're
  here today of your own violation,
  my friend. But you'd like to
  believe that the weight of the
  world rests on your shoulders-that
  the store would crumble if Dante
  wasn't here. Well, I got news for
  you, jerk: This store would survive
  without you. Without me either. All
  you do is overcompensate for having
  what's basically a monkey's job:
  You push fucking buttons. Any moron
  can waltz in here and do our jobs,
  but you're obsessed with making it
  seem so much more fucking important,
  so much more epic than it really is.
  You work in a convenience store,
  Dante. And badly, I might add. And
  I work in a shitty video store.
  Badly, as well.
  You know, that guy Jay's got it
  right-he has no delusions about
  what he does. Us? We like to make
  ourselves seem so much better than
  the people that come in here, just
  looking to pick up a paper or-God
  forbid-cigarettes. We look down on
  them, as it we're so advanced.
  Well, if we're so fucking advanced,
  then what are we doing working here?


Possible actual spiritual reflection to follow, later today.  I'm halfway through David Whyte's The Heart Aroused: Poetry and the Preservation of Soul in Corporate America, which is basically his book-length response to Can Poetry Matter?   Of all the book-length responses to that essay I've read, it may be my favorite, though.


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