We Dig.
We dig, dig, dig. We dig, dig, dig. Ahhh, the digging. The constant goddamn digging. And there's no Snow White in sight. But we dig ... nonetheless. I shouldn't really complain. I chose this job. I chose the digging. Some days I dig nonstop with no time to lift my head up and look out the window. Oh yeah, we got windows. Our boss is not a tyrant. He's a prick yeah, but not a tyrant. But the digging, the digging is starting to get to me. No, I'm not an undertaker. You don't dig graves in a building with windows. At least we don't. But I sure feel like strangling some people some days. They get to you. No one seems to appreciate your digging some days. And it hurts. They need us to dig but then they act like we're digging their gardens up or some such bullgaga.
Nick, my dig buddy, God love him, guy loves to dig. He's a newbie digger though and it's kind of my job to supervise him, you know, make sure he's digging right. Cuz you gotta dig right. You don't dig up your share of dirt for the day, Boss is not very happy with you. Nicky knows that. That's why he comes to me sometimes and watches me dig, so he knows how it's done right. Boss likes Nick. I think he's got him in mind for my replacement. Ok, who told Boss I may be going away for a while? Oh yeah, it was me. Oh, I'm nice, I'm nice. And honest I am too. Bullgaga. Got Boss all scared and nervous talking about going away for a while. Hates that Boss does. Knows I'm the best digger he ever had. Knows I love the digging. The digging's in my blood. Found me a replacement quick enough though. Hey Boss, I'm still here man. I'm still diggin' for ya. Got blood on my hands for ya.
No, I haven't killed anyone. Although some days ... wait, I already said that. So we dig, dig, dig. It's brutal. It's nasty. It's tough. But we're tough too. Getting old is not helping though. And all those years, I haven't got a nugget of gold to show for it. Boss pays well, but he keeps the gold for himself. And his pretty little wife. With her pretty little hobbies, and whims. She needs all. She takes all. Last time I checked, Snow White was not blond! Ok, must admit, last time I checked was a very long time ago. But as far as I know, fairytales don't change with the years. People do. Boss and wifey sure did.
I'm not digging today. Got that cough again. All the dust we bring up with our damn digging. Stinks. Boss gives me drugs. They work. But I'm tired of them. Tired of the digging. I'm going away for a while though. Boss knows that. Nicky knows that. Everybody knows that. Will I be back? Hey, I'm the notorious Leaver! But the digging, the digging is one thing I can't leave. The digging is my life. And I need the digging. Sweat, dust, drugs and all. So, chances are ... I'll be back.
Hey, is that Snow White?
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Brief Fourteen
The Big Goodbye
I stood in the doorway with my suitcases. One in each hand. Quite pathetic. My gym bag would have sufficed. But it's me, with a flare for the dramatic. I was leaving. All throughout my life, I'm always leaving. It's all I know how to do ... and I do it well. Just as I get tight and cozy in a place, deep down in the wicked chasm of my subconcsiousness, there I am, leaving. Will I ever stop leaving? The decision is not mine to make. One day, maybe, when I least expect it, I'll stay.
But there I was, in the doorway, with my suitcases. Leaving. A place I had found by chance, a place that had become my oasis all these years, a place I loved. A place I dreaded originally, until I met her there. My Fiona. She had chosen me, she had welcomed me, no questions asked. And this is how I was thanking her now. By leaving. By leaving them all.
They had been good to me. I had tried to be good to them. I believe I was. And as I stood in the doorway, the one thought dominating my troubled mind was, the decision was not mine to make. Never is. Never. It was better that Fiona had her back to me. I would have wanted nothing else. Too busy, or pretending to be too busy, to see the door slam shut behind me. For good this time. Yes, she had begged me not to go. She had told me how much she needed me and how much she would miss me. But she had never told me more. And I needed more. I needed much more than that to stop me from leaving. That urge is a great driving force in my life. Did she not know that by then?
Of course there was Marc. The man tried to be good to me. I do believe he really did. But it was not in his nature. I do blieve he tried with Fiona, tried his best poor man, but the nature of the beast is ... well, beasty. And it didn't help the influence the Others had on him either. I despised the Others for one, but I tried to be decent with Marc, for Fiona's sake of course. The only good thing about leaving was leaving Marc. And the Others. I hated how they drained the life right out of Fiona, slowly, drop by drop. And I couldn't stand to watch. I couldn't stay and watch. In the end, as is always the case, they got what they deserve I hear.
And then there was Sly. Sly was good to Fiona. Sly was good for Fiona. I left Fiona to Sly. How do I sleep at night? Easy. I tell myself I left Fiona ... to Sly. Sly, my good buddy, he takes care of my Fiona for me now. Did Sly make it easier for me to leave? Would I have still left if there was no Sly? The decision was not mine to make. How many times do I have to tell myslef that? What's most important is, Fiona is happy now.
Leaving. Never mine decision to make but always the right one as it turns out. For the people that I leave, for the new ones that I meet. And for me.
I stood in the doorway with my suitcases. One in each hand. Quite pathetic. My gym bag would have sufficed. But it's me, with a flare for the dramatic. I was leaving. All throughout my life, I'm always leaving. It's all I know how to do ... and I do it well. Just as I get tight and cozy in a place, deep down in the wicked chasm of my subconcsiousness, there I am, leaving. Will I ever stop leaving? The decision is not mine to make. One day, maybe, when I least expect it, I'll stay.
But there I was, in the doorway, with my suitcases. Leaving. A place I had found by chance, a place that had become my oasis all these years, a place I loved. A place I dreaded originally, until I met her there. My Fiona. She had chosen me, she had welcomed me, no questions asked. And this is how I was thanking her now. By leaving. By leaving them all.
They had been good to me. I had tried to be good to them. I believe I was. And as I stood in the doorway, the one thought dominating my troubled mind was, the decision was not mine to make. Never is. Never. It was better that Fiona had her back to me. I would have wanted nothing else. Too busy, or pretending to be too busy, to see the door slam shut behind me. For good this time. Yes, she had begged me not to go. She had told me how much she needed me and how much she would miss me. But she had never told me more. And I needed more. I needed much more than that to stop me from leaving. That urge is a great driving force in my life. Did she not know that by then?
Of course there was Marc. The man tried to be good to me. I do believe he really did. But it was not in his nature. I do blieve he tried with Fiona, tried his best poor man, but the nature of the beast is ... well, beasty. And it didn't help the influence the Others had on him either. I despised the Others for one, but I tried to be decent with Marc, for Fiona's sake of course. The only good thing about leaving was leaving Marc. And the Others. I hated how they drained the life right out of Fiona, slowly, drop by drop. And I couldn't stand to watch. I couldn't stay and watch. In the end, as is always the case, they got what they deserve I hear.
And then there was Sly. Sly was good to Fiona. Sly was good for Fiona. I left Fiona to Sly. How do I sleep at night? Easy. I tell myself I left Fiona ... to Sly. Sly, my good buddy, he takes care of my Fiona for me now. Did Sly make it easier for me to leave? Would I have still left if there was no Sly? The decision was not mine to make. How many times do I have to tell myslef that? What's most important is, Fiona is happy now.
Leaving. Never mine decision to make but always the right one as it turns out. For the people that I leave, for the new ones that I meet. And for me.
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