It's been over three months now since an inscribed outburst and whenever that happens I like to think you people wonder how my latest breakdown is going. Well very well, thanks for your concern. Breakdowns that take this long are usually considered personalities. It also implies some functionality once took place but such thoughts are best left unprovoked. If I insist you must know, I took weapons grade shrooms and watched The Social Dilemma while Russia invaded Ukraine and now my brain no spunky spunky.
Have you seen these fucking idiots showing their support for putin with the symbolic letter 'Z'? Looks like a fucking sideways Nazi. In fact, I'm so fucking mad about it that I'm going to use the word 'fucking' in every sentence. Fucking welcome to my integrity vacuum. There's a good chance that I'm serious, so fucking good luck finishing this one. Did you just scroll down quickly to see if the next paragraph has fucking in every sentence? Well I don't know yet because I haven't fucking written it. But I will start the paragraph with 'fucking' just to mind fuck you.
Fucking would you look at that. In some fraudulent sense of morality this me doing my bit for Ukraine. I could even start a fucking GoFundMe where those affected by what they're reading can give 2 fucks. I'll match our own governments efforts by donating a fucking imprecation for every quid donated. I've no idea what it's like to read this one but its fucking fun to write! I get a little endorphin hit with each fucking like whenever my housemate screams "Fucking cunt!" to some poor 8 year old over Call of Duty.
Shrooms as it turns out are not conducive to writing. Surprisingly, taking the natural stimulant in an attempt to do anything productive is largely anti-productive. On a completely unrelated note, I have recently been forced into a new career. In a gross over simplification, I now hang teles in offices. Basically I have found a job, that as a dangerously under-qualified electrician, compensates for my level of competency. I just plug shit in. In my new role I get to witness the wonders of all of England. From offices in Grimsby to offices in Doncaster. Which is actually only an hour along the M180, information no man should know. In a phenomenon that can only be described as extremely explicable, the further from my house I get the less weird people seem. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, no matter how fruity. I often find people in these offices talking to themselves. They usually qualify their apology for this with a "it's a sign of genius you know" which negates the fact that I can hear what they're thinking.
I was shitcanned from my job as an electrician in January for not showing up. In my defence, and this is quite a good defence, I was on annual leave. They just forgot. Now, I'm not a complete idiot despite everything you have ever read on this site. I know you're thinking 'I'm sure there's more to that story Jake'. And any attempt to explain otherwise you'll forever suspect me of bias. And to that I say fuck you! But also, fair enough. So I will try to tell you how he must have seen the situation, as best as I can understand it. I'll write my words in blue and my former employers in hot pink, which in no way reveals any resentfulness about how they fucked me.
Jake hasn't shown up for work this fine Thursday morning, what a prick. I would check the diary to see if he's on annual leave but I am a being of true omnipotence & pansophic knowledge and would remember such details. I could phone and ask where he is like a normal person but such things are beneath me. Jake is clearly challenging me to a game of chicken and I shan't blink first.
With each passing hour without an apologetic phone call the deeper the resentment my absence creates. By the time Monday evening rolls around the damage was done. I had yet to receive my schedule of work for the week. So I phoned in to see which site to go to in the morning. Not only did I go into this phone call on a five day handicap, my boss was refuting my ignorance. Which was a first for me. It's difficult to put into words the level of incredulity my brain was operating at. I couldn't process his words in real time. And by the time I had understood the start of the phone call, he was done with it. By which time of course I had made the situation exponentially worse. The conversation moved in every direction except forwards. Tired of watching trying to dig upwards, he hung up.
This might be the first ever case of a job dispute where the person being sacked screamed "You did fire me, I didn't quit!" Due to the swirling polarisation of my mental state during this phone call I can't relay it verbatim. But from my fragmented memory it sounded like it was made entirely out of unanswered questions "Alright Boss, hows it going? "Boss? Where have you been? "I went to Fabric on Saturday and pub on Monday, and it was pretty epic" "Glad you had a good time." (Since living in Canada, I am genuinely less good at picking up sarcasm. This is because when they say shit like 'good for you' they mean it literally)... "Thanks man, bit ropey the next day but no regrets" Silence.. In hindsight he was clearly seething in anger but this sails over my head. "Where am I working tomorrow? "You're a funny guy. "You read my blog then? "Blog?". He did not read my blog, but I'll make fucking sure to send him this.
Artwork by Catboy.
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