i think i'm getting dumber. i'm not sure.

This is a personal "hello" to everyone who wanted to be mentioned or replied to. There are a lot of you, so I've decided to combine my efforts and put them all into one giant answer. Yes, I do read your e-mails and letters. Sometimes I rub them all over my naked body too. Did I say that out loud? I have to apologize for the slacking that's been taking place on my web site. It seems the computer guru is working away for the gum balls instead or gold chocolate coins. I mean, who wouldn't?

is so great

Shameless as the world turns. Beware as things have changed. The universe has been knocked out of submission and yet I've got this funny feeling, like I've been here before. Like we've been sick like this before. Like I've seen you naked a million times. I know what you look like pretty baby. When it rarely is. Shameless. Can you tame this?

is so divine.

The meeting was already in transition and my objectives had been already complete but without avail. When she reached the end of the sheet of paper, I took a final glance, and watched the her lift her eyebrow and snap it slightly. Afterwards, she gave one final glance in return. I returned the glance between the four of us and crossed the intersections of investigative eyes and looked out the window. I had been given a small project because they had discovered I had a knack for the arts. I had failed to chronicle anything of value and they knocked me out, two at a time

"I don't like it."

one

"You’re graphic is politically incorrect."

two

"Who cares anyway?" I thought. "What difference does it make?" But I have to admit, I felt oddly relieved.

three... you're out.

I work in the shadows of the wondrous, sensual, intricate. Above the mouse-maze of city streets. I’m shown to an empty cubicle and given some papers to sign. One of them is a promise not to talk about my work here. The window in front of me is tinted green. A flat, lifeless hue, a shade lighter than the window frame. The floor is covered with worn, green industrial carpet that probably didn’t look clean even when it was new. My desk is gray, and my chair is black.

The intercom crackles from time to time, announcing the start of a meeting, or calling someone to the phone. "Please dial extension six-six-zero, Dane, extension six-six-zero." Otherwise, it’s silent.

The day drags on, but I’m grateful to be working, and I don’t complain. I drink coffee and use the bathroom, instead. I’m hidden on the quiet side of an office that covers the entire floor, and it’s a five minute walk to the men’s room—or so it seems. I’ve gone there several times more than necessary and the trip gets shorter every time. Five minutes. Three minutes. Two minutes. Down to one by the end of the day.

I am the majestic in the dusk, standing bold and stark against the denim blue twilight. I can see inside the offices from here and inside the building is as dull as where I sit. Office workers doing office work.

Around four o’clock, I lean over my desk, and look down at the street. The sidewalks are filled with people. They cluster at the intersections, waiting to cross. Some of them can’t wait. The city busses have fat numbers on their roofs, and I watch numbers muscle their way through a pack of jaywalkers. A taxi’s horn echoes, and another answers from further away.

I believe one of the buildings next to me is much like this one. I can see easily through its sheer, but there isn’t much to see. No criminals plotting crimes, no businessmen entertaining hookers. Just a guy on the edge of his seat, watching his monitor, and another, like me, looking out his window.

I work here tomorrow, too.

I don’t expect it’ll be much different, but if it is, I’ll let you know.