Livinghigh
Friday, October 01, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 11:10 PM /



More than 12 hours of varnish

Sitting in a squeaky-clean office that somehow reminds me of a Henko commercial, and thinking of - of all things - a midnight with stars overhead, and a crackling smouldering fire ahead, sparks dancing, faery and otherwise, all glow and all sting, as the hoary old Red Indian in his frayed cloak, sitting hunched on the cold ground, tells you the story of his tribe. It's almost as if he brings alive those fights with nature, the ongoing war with life, the harsh hunt, the bear-fights, the joys of sowing grain, and the cool spray of a thousand waterfalls.

Welcome to dreamland, the varnish-tinged brain within my skull says. Welcome to anywhere you want to go, my imagination sighs in content.

See the corporate logo of the office you work for, 9-to-5-or-even-6-7-8-9-today-11, and then think of the rays of the rainbow darting out like some strange... somethings. Lost a train of thought there, as I give in to the harsh drums beating in my ears, courtesy the walkman still thumping on the plyboard desk, in its battery-induced beat. Somethings, somethings, somethings and somethings more.

Welcome to depravity, idiocy, genius, senility, severity, serendipity, sloth. Yes, I think that's it, in the end: welcome to sloth.


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