matter of time

I've had my head vigorously shaken too many times during the past few days. But i think I'm liking it. This bothers me to a certain extent.

This is technical support. It's a bit ironic, because I've always thought there is a conflict between the onslaught of technology and the lyrical realities I face. I might be mistaken though.

I've been taking calls for nearly three weeks now. I always say I'm having fun. There's a certain level of self-deception that transforms itself to reality.

What am I up to? nothing. I'm just transforming pixels in my screen into nonsensical rants about my unpleasant life and my job as a tech support rep.

Stop. I'm just swimming to and fro in a murky current. Oh, I think I had it in exclamation while back. SO this is what happens when a man sits down to write with so many distractions. Fragments of thought and language that make no coherent connection but otherwise related because there is only one mind thinking it.

I'm just gathering bits and pieces of myself now. But for someone reason, I feel some overpowering fuel come over me. I love this feeling: of being in control, of being a master of my destiny. I pray that What I have now won't be taken a way, I need this for now. My books offer a great remedy to my frailties, by the way. Somehow, because of the wealth of human company that working offers me, I miss the realm of my lyrical self. I want to retreat and be part of it again.

Maybe I should write poetry again, that would be cool again, I think. I walk around an I hear myself saying something or thinking something up, wishing I had a pen or something to write with, but then, there's nothing. So the inspiration fades away after an instant, sunk in the mud of my brain matter.

So, there. I should write more. I says.