I never wanted to kill; I am not naturally evil.

Duuuuuuuuuuudes. How have I missed you? let me count the ways.

1.

OK I can't think of any ways. But still, MY LONGING FOR YOUR COMPANY IS TURNING ME INTO A DEAD BROWN(ing) POET! Along the lines of Robin Williams & Ethan Hawke etc, only with a more contemporary sensibility and less of a rigid social milleu leading to indulgence in Shakespearean tights, latin cliches, suicide, etc.

What's that? You haven't missed me at all and would prefer it if I fucked off back to my grim life as a full on 'Dult with a job and a mortgage and a sensible approach to grammar and actually spent this fine Tuesday afternoon doing some work to earn the money payed to me in fortnightly installments by your good friend and mine, the ATP?

Well fuck you, sunshine. As The Dude's friend Philby would say, I'M NOT BOBO THE DANCING MONKEY, BRO!
























Hey, c'mon mister nora. Tell them the motherfucking truth.

Ok OK. So I totally am Bobo the Dancing Monkey. They practically have me wearing a little red vest and a fez here. But dude, if the taxpayer cannot afford to pay me more than $20.66 an hour for the pleasure of advancing the Common Good, then the taxpayer can suck this dancing monkey's cock.

You know the interesting thing about being a dancing monkey round these parts is that all the surrounding monkeys are so consumed by ennui that if I do so much as lift my little monkey foot in a half hearted high-kick, they all start jumping up and down making "hoot hoot hoot hoot" noises and practically drowning me in amazing performance reviews. I have tried pointing out that I'm not exactly Rudy fuckin Nureyev here bros; in fact I more closely resemble some kind of neckless footballer on Dancing with the Stars (which, incidentally, should be totally reinvented as DANCING WITH THE STASI! How much would THAT lift ratings eh, motherfuckers!) but I'm telling you dudes, it's to NO MOTHERFUCKING AVAIL. I could fucking do a shit in a tea cup and submit it as a research memo and I would get a departmental commendation.

This does not inspire me to do my best work. Or any work, in fact. Never mind, I am moving to new department next week; hopefully they will employ some STICK as well as CARROT and possibly some other type of PHALLIC SYMBOL and I will once again find in myself a love of toil. But right now, it's Tuesday afternoon and bitches, this monkey refuses to boogie.

xoxo nora