Blogging at Work

I am sitting in the cubicle farm, and visions of vast rows of wired-in, imprisoned humans from The Matrix flash in my mind.
Things here have evolved from hysterically awful to tolerable. Perhaps it is I that has done the evolving. I am sedated and bored. Perhaps calloused is the word. I'm still fairly busy most of the time, but I just don't give a shit. I'm just working for the weekend. Thus, I am diminished as a human being.

I need a road trip. I need to sit, scribbling in my journal, in unfamiliar bars in the middle of the day. I need to prod myself awake with surprises and uncertainty. I just need less morphine in the IV drip of daily life.