job fog

I am supposed to be working. The tv drones behind me, background noise, something about the entire Viking football team doing live sex shows on some boat. Go team! Now it is the weather report, a non-event. It is raining. It rains. I, personally, would like to see weather reporting limited to the surprising and unexpected. If there is a tornado in Portland, bring on the broadcasters -- front and center in their little yellow Northface jackets, horizontal, hanging onto light poles with blue fingertips, screaming the obvious. That would be worth the time and effort to watch. As it stands, if we can know with some level of certainty, the exact temperature at 8,12,4,6, and 8, I think we have taken the fun out of weather. I've said this before. I'm repeating myself.

I am supposed to be working. I don't like my job anymore. I don't want my job anymore. I'm going to actually quit my job. The moment of clarity snuck up on me in the dark, on my way through Tigard at six in the morning. It is foggy from Tigard to Sherwood sometimes. I don't know the area well enough to know what body of water is contributing to the moisture. I love fog. I love to be invisible -- wish I was -- and gliding through fog, well, I like the way I feel. Cradled in mist, each moment entering the unknown. And all this in Tigard. How often do you get a surreal experience there? I take it where I can.

But I digress.

I am quitting my job. There I was in the fog, thinking: I don't think I want to do this anymore. And then... I don't think I will do this anymore. And then. Fuck this job. I'm outta there. So the process begins again. I stay at jobs, I always have. This may be a mid-life crisis, but shit. I will find something to do. I will be a rich poet. I will publish that damned book. But what I will probably be is a consultant. The most ethereal of all jobs: a non-job. You dont' do anything. Just talk about stuff you know, tell people what they should be doing, and leave. They can do or not do what you tell them, and you don't care. You're off to the next place, telling somebody else what to do or not do. And they will or won't, and so on. I would wear expensive clothing and matching accessories.

Naw.

Oh, I'll find something to do. Just not this.