A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- veils, thin and otherwise Tomorrow there will be rest for the wicked, a reprieve from the albatross house, i did not so much mind going in the beginning, but repeated failure is a daunting thing. Brother, the more handily inclined of the two of us, takes it particularly personally, as the majority of the effort is his, my place in these tasks is as the extra hand, or when needed, the wrecking ball. where brother can build, i am better suited to dismantling things. it was my job once, and not in terms of my criminal days, but once, one of my old tech jobs required me to undo things in order to fix them, my first practical taste of forensics, as it were, dissect the components and try to piece together where the problem occurred. i havent the money or the time, however to keep knocking down the door to figure out where the measurement goes wrong and why the lock must be forced to catch. in the office now, if i fail at something, i keep a back up copy and start again, i am the devil in the details and the details in which the devil lurks as well, obsessive nature is sometimes a hindrance, but i frequently get the tasks with the smaller margins for error and my psychosis becomes an asset, so much so that my chronic, habitual, nearly genetic tardiness is hardly ever held against me, whereas in other places, half-assed was the rule so long as you showed up at the right time and bleated in time and tune with the rest of the flock as led by the evangelical embezzler and his array of sensors, probes and electrical implements (E-I-E-I-O, you sanctimonious fuck) i did spend a couple of moments whistling through clenched teeth when i heard two people who once detested the now deposed second-in-command suddenly singing sympathetic praises and cheers for how it thrives now in it's new surroundings. Funny that the Caesar they are now quick to praise was the same one they spent two and a half years eager to bury, though luckily it was not our knives, but higher powers that removed No. 2 from our environs. Oh well, if enough things turn around in the office, i won't equate the removal with waiting to cut out the tumor til after the patient is dead, but i'm reserving judgement for now. 10:24 p.m. - 2003-06-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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