1 Jul 2010

Of no consequence.

Her name was Joan and she was ITALIAN.
Only she wasn’t that Italian.
I mean – her name was Joan…

Joan was married to Colin. I liked Colin.
He was a nice guy, and as we all know, nice guys finish last.
I guess part of me should feel bad for being this way but
Fuck him.
I know too many people that were/are nice
And given the choice, I wouldn’t sit and drink with a single fucking one of them.

I prefer madness.
Underhanded tactics and ulterior motives.
All are signs of a more interesting human being.

I thought of them both today, Colin and Joan. I remembered them.
How odd that a couple with whom you spent so much time, in this case at work, would disappear entirely from memory.

Two people over the course of maybe 2 years, and I can recall not a single conversation. Not a gesture, not even a goodbye from either of them.

Life is full of these people.
They take your time, your energy, and ask unreasonable things of you while they make more money than you ever will. Because they are nice, they are professional.

And they do not know a single thing about their own minds,
And so shall never ask even the simplest of questions
As they’re too busy making it,
Climbing the ladder,
Being all they can be.

What bullshit.