24 hours in the life of an Omega Man
Jul. 10th, 2007 02:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalonThe thunder has a metallic echo here in the Cube Farm, the rumble rattles down through the ceiling and the effect is similar to listening to a storm through a tin can. The women have gathered in a cluster around one of the windows. From where i'm sitting their reflections are floating outside, mute ghosts looking back at them through the mirrorglass. The rain comes down in layers of sheets. No one says anything. Think of your face back when it rained at recess, that's them all over. Finally the smallest of the women, "Baby Mama" starts singing with her squeaky little girls voice: "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone". The other women laugh a little at this rendition but eventually join in, as one by one they return to their desks.
Yesterday I was left alone. Thankfully, no one but the Woman called. I slipped into what I call Omega Man Mode. Suddenly "I am Legend". I'm Vincent Price, Charleston Heston and Will Smith all rolled into one. This suits me more than fine: In a world full of Alpha Fe/Males & Passive Aggresives, I like the idea of being the last man on Earth for a day or two. Outside the boarded windows of my fortress mind there's a mob of hooded albino vampires bellowing my name over and over again: They want blood, by which I mean they want me to pay my bills, work overtime, polish my shoes, make my bed, get my teeth cleaned, turn down the radio, see their band play, pick a number, take a card, sit down, shut up, get off my cross and get with the program.
They burn an effigy of me outside. They throw rocks at the windows. They try to storm the gates and as always find themselves snared in the barbwire of my indifference. Meanwhile i'm sipping expensive thoughts, puffing hand rolled dreams and listening to Qawalli Be-Bop on the Hi-Fi. Occasionally I throw them a molotov cocktail party. I push the speakers up to the windows and crank it up loud. Eventually, when they think i'm not looking, I catch them dancing through a corner in the window.
But that's not what you wanna hear. Let's try it again.
Yesterday I was left alone. Thankfully no one but the Woman called. I woke up, clocked in, worked for 8 hours, I wrote a short story, read some posts, clocked out, read 40 pages in my book on the ride home, checked an empty mail box, rode my bike for a few miles, hit the gym, made dinner, studied for my CPC license, fought with my piece of shit laptop, lost to my piece of shit laptop, laid in bed listening to NPR smoking camels while reading old issues of VICE magazine, finally turn off the lights, kill the radio and while waiting for oblivion to overtake me, conjure smoke angels to navigate me back to sleep.
Personally I prefer the albino vampire version better, but that's just me.
Yesterday I was left alone. Thankfully, no one but the Woman called. I slipped into what I call Omega Man Mode. Suddenly "I am Legend". I'm Vincent Price, Charleston Heston and Will Smith all rolled into one. This suits me more than fine: In a world full of Alpha Fe/Males & Passive Aggresives, I like the idea of being the last man on Earth for a day or two. Outside the boarded windows of my fortress mind there's a mob of hooded albino vampires bellowing my name over and over again: They want blood, by which I mean they want me to pay my bills, work overtime, polish my shoes, make my bed, get my teeth cleaned, turn down the radio, see their band play, pick a number, take a card, sit down, shut up, get off my cross and get with the program.
They burn an effigy of me outside. They throw rocks at the windows. They try to storm the gates and as always find themselves snared in the barbwire of my indifference. Meanwhile i'm sipping expensive thoughts, puffing hand rolled dreams and listening to Qawalli Be-Bop on the Hi-Fi. Occasionally I throw them a molotov cocktail party. I push the speakers up to the windows and crank it up loud. Eventually, when they think i'm not looking, I catch them dancing through a corner in the window.
But that's not what you wanna hear. Let's try it again.
Yesterday I was left alone. Thankfully no one but the Woman called. I woke up, clocked in, worked for 8 hours, I wrote a short story, read some posts, clocked out, read 40 pages in my book on the ride home, checked an empty mail box, rode my bike for a few miles, hit the gym, made dinner, studied for my CPC license, fought with my piece of shit laptop, lost to my piece of shit laptop, laid in bed listening to NPR smoking camels while reading old issues of VICE magazine, finally turn off the lights, kill the radio and while waiting for oblivion to overtake me, conjure smoke angels to navigate me back to sleep.
Personally I prefer the albino vampire version better, but that's just me.
