pulling

Nobody is reading this, correct?

Correct?

I take extra work on the side, pulling staples out of human resources documents for $13 an hour, among other things. The "why" of this isn't relevant... suffice to say that in a particular context staples represent entropy, and I am eliminating this entropic potential.

On one hand I imagine there is a specific, significantly non-zero number of individuals in the world of now who would leap after this opportunity, as indeed I did. Hard times make this easy, from a variety of perspectives, money.

And then on the other hand there is the real of it... Fifteen minutes concentrated effort represent a kind of eternity of staples, page after page and folder after folder. The mind is already colonized by staples and the mechanics of their removal, and I look at the clock, at last, and think: three dollars, 25 cents. Not much, and the only way to make anything of it is to keep after it, and the hours add up to a whole other head space of specific but terribly similar events repeated, and repeated, and repeated.

With an iPod shuffle loaded with a curious assortment of odds and ends, mostly the product of a longish and recently terminated association with eMusic. New Orleans rap and Sufjan Stevens and what selections of compilations of chill-out music the random spits out. Backed by VHS tapes of Neon Genesis Evangelion on mute, mostly unwatched, flash of images, something to keep the eyes focused as fingers feel for elusive sneakers, hidden teeth, entropy's tiny army I am armed to fight with a set of metallic snake jaws. Not what I was looking for, I try to avoid thinking on it too much, not what I signed up for. But it is work, and it is work I'm wanting. And so it goes.