The Ghoul’s taking orders

Tracking the music playlist

Monday 11:36 a.m.

I’m sitting here at my favorite little table at the office.

Tracking the playlist.

Carol King is singing ANTICIPATION. A suck ass song if there ever was one. Except the part that goes, “these are the good old days…” I kind of like that.

The good old days.

Are these the good old days? I’m waiting for The Artificial Intelligence Police to take charge of what’s left of my life. Turn me into Mind Juice. Hook me up to a dry cell battery. Farm my Libido for choice bits of porno…churn it out like video sausage. Sell it but leave me with author’s copies. I can’t wait because I can’t remember all the fun I had.

A gynoid, or fembot, is a feminine humanoid robot.

She can show me her badge. Pack me off to the Mind Juice Factory.

With her help I can relive the good old days!

What just happened?

Wow. T-Rex is singing “I’m just a Jeepster for your love.”

A great song follows a suck ass song.

This is how it works with the Office play list….

OMG! They followed Jeepster with Marvin Gaye’s WHAT’S GOING ON?”

See what I mean about the playlist?

It just keeps getting better and better.

What’s keeping the A.I. Police?

The Lobotomy Dude just showed up

Humming through the door.

Slams his notebook on my other favorite little table.

He’s right across from me but doesn’t acknowledge my existence. He’s looking right through me like I’m invisible. That’s good. That means he’s in another place. He won’t bother me.

It’s kind of creepy though. Somebody staring at you like you’re the portal through which they observe a cruel and uncaring universe.

My Time Is Short

I’ve got about 29 minutes to complete this blog post. A short half hour before I need to pack it up and drive to my suck ass Booze Demo job. Drive all the way to Novato….

“What are you griping about!” Lobotomy screams.

Huh?

He’s staring at me but he’s not talking to me directly.

“I don’t give a damn what Saint Paul said. If I want to be a reprobate I’ll be one. My mother used to call me a reprobate. She no longer calls me a reprobate. I killed her.”

I happen to know he did not kill his mother. She was in here with him yesterday. Furthermore, I seriously doubt he had a Lobotomy. It’s just one of his fables.

He’s staring at me. Humming. Staring. Something’s on the radio. I don’t know what it is. A recent song. I don’t know any recent songs. I’m stuck in the 80s. My mind is, I mean. Shit. I wish I could remember more. The Lobotomy dude is typing. He looks up. “Why are you staring at me?”

He goes back to typing. It’s not me he sees.

He sees right through me.

Maybe back to the Good Old Days…