It’s A Long Story

In which we discuss our shortcomings as caught by our listeners, the noble song and musical metaphors of doing it.

In which we discuss what exactly entails promiscuity and athletic endeavor.

In which we discuss plausible movies and Everest.

LATE!

In which we discuss what exactly entails promiscuity and athletic endeavor.

In which we discuss Jesus' hobbies and corporate structure.

In which I try to regale you with triathlon stories and we discuss the befuddling categorization of the French and the pregnant. Italian food makes an appearance.

I have this thought.  It is eating at my subconsciousness so I am going to write it down, perhaps getting the genius/monkey off my back.

It began in an improv class.  The first day of class we were complete strangers and then, throughout months and months of learning, we became friends. Even before we managed our way through this institution’s curriculum we decided to produce and stage our own shows.  Thus Cure Improv was born.  CI was a success and now, 3 total performances under our belt we venture into even murkier waters and bigger ideas.

Very early on I realized the intricacies of herding and maintaining the egos and perceived inclusion of 12 people are astounding.  It is like playing pick-up sticks with only a rump-roast.  I’ve learned more things I find valuable in this short process than in my entire tenure at work. A function of my inert starting point in that area? Perhaps.

But here is my thought: Work, despite what ‘grown-ups’ tell us, is not the real world.  On the contrary, I believe that work is such a codified architecture so obliquely designed towards damping the affect of the real world that it might be construed as a conspiracy.

All wavelength extremes of behavior are filtered out by policy, monotony and hierarchy.  The human aspect of people is put behind a black curtain and we are commoditized into units of work (at my job, this is so literal I can show physical representation of my units).  It’s like a horrible theme park, where the theme is ‘bland’.

This is certainly not just my job either.  If you are reading this and you think your job requires ‘people-skills’ you’ve lost sight of shore.  I know you; I know your job.  Your office does not contain people, it contains workers.  You have worker skills.  A prized skillset to be sure, but no more real than the singing pirates in Disneyland or the ‘value’ of stock.

Actually, maybe you do have people skills.  You do not, however, use them at work.

It would seem that as we cast off the yoke of religion we ran straight to the opiate of the job.  Perhaps we escape /to/ work?  Everyone complains about their job but isn’t it possible we are finding comfort in the known demon?  Whatever annoys you in the anemic world of work can’t possibly be as bad as the things that happen in the real world.  So a lady complains about that bitch at the office while putting down the cheeseburger that’ll leave her fatherless kids without a mother?  Maybe?

I dunno what I think of all this. I’ve given up on philosophy and have decided merely to observe.

Answer: He always felt ‘blah’.

In which we discuss my awesome new kindle 2 and explain our new plan of becoming free-style rappers.

In which we discuss the very successful Cure Improv show and being late.

I’m going to miss untroubled slumber….

I honestly believe that if video went a few minutes longer we’d have seen that the poor girls’ laughter was involuntary and quickly destroying them from the inside.