Dot in the Sky (
dotinthesky) wrote2004-04-19 08:04 pm
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Just four more days of penitence
Little Lamb, on a hill
Run fast as you can
The Christians, they want to kill you
And your life has not even begun
- Morrissey
I wasn't employed to edit anything Catholic. I’m the editor’s secretary. They gave me a chair covered with thick white dog’s hair. Seriously. I tried taking some off with sticky tape, but it’s a day-long job. On my desk, the photo of said white dog. With its tongue sticking out.
People were polite. Emails were about homosexuality in seminars, women priests, Iraq, the Pope’s Hitler. I was nervous and answered the phone like a 16-year-old bubblegum-chewing blonde. I could see the pain on the editor’s face with my incompetency. I couldn’t stand her bad breath. I fucked up and felt like I loser when I left. I would take down people’s name incorrectly… or forget to jot down their phone numbers.
My desk was covered with poems and postcards. Mostly Jesus but also a DONKEY motif! And a poem about donkeys aswell… Did I mention everyone was nice? Nice - nice – but oh so uncomfortable. And those accents – Oxford is stapled to their tongues. Throughout the day, one by one, they asked me where my accent was from. Accents are VERY IMPORTANT for these people. Also various types of books on my shelf. A biography on the Pope. Collections of poetry. And abridged tapes of Agatha Christie novels.
There’s another brazilian in the office but I didn’t meet him today. What lies ahead. What lies beneath. What did the editor mean when I was leaving and she said: “Good God”? She made me feel like shit. But I forgive, like a good Christian. Homo Christian. Cock-loving Christian.
I can’t stand my work situation. Every week a new place. It detonates my insides, my confidence. I have no prospects. The Summer looks cold to me. I feel lonely in London, lost. Keep telling myself: you have so much going for you, you are better off than most people. What a selfish thought to prop myself up.
***
Your dog doesn't bark
Because your dog doesn't exist
Run fast as you can
The Christians, they want to kill you
And your life has not even begun
- Morrissey
I wasn't employed to edit anything Catholic. I’m the editor’s secretary. They gave me a chair covered with thick white dog’s hair. Seriously. I tried taking some off with sticky tape, but it’s a day-long job. On my desk, the photo of said white dog. With its tongue sticking out.
People were polite. Emails were about homosexuality in seminars, women priests, Iraq, the Pope’s Hitler. I was nervous and answered the phone like a 16-year-old bubblegum-chewing blonde. I could see the pain on the editor’s face with my incompetency. I couldn’t stand her bad breath. I fucked up and felt like I loser when I left. I would take down people’s name incorrectly… or forget to jot down their phone numbers.
My desk was covered with poems and postcards. Mostly Jesus but also a DONKEY motif! And a poem about donkeys aswell… Did I mention everyone was nice? Nice - nice – but oh so uncomfortable. And those accents – Oxford is stapled to their tongues. Throughout the day, one by one, they asked me where my accent was from. Accents are VERY IMPORTANT for these people. Also various types of books on my shelf. A biography on the Pope. Collections of poetry. And abridged tapes of Agatha Christie novels.
There’s another brazilian in the office but I didn’t meet him today. What lies ahead. What lies beneath. What did the editor mean when I was leaving and she said: “Good God”? She made me feel like shit. But I forgive, like a good Christian. Homo Christian. Cock-loving Christian.
I can’t stand my work situation. Every week a new place. It detonates my insides, my confidence. I have no prospects. The Summer looks cold to me. I feel lonely in London, lost. Keep telling myself: you have so much going for you, you are better off than most people. What a selfish thought to prop myself up.
***
Your dog doesn't bark
Because your dog doesn't exist
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I still have to read your story, I started it several times but keep getting interrupted!
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I don't care at all about a crap job, I've decided... as long as I feel like I get along with the people, as long as there's some interest involved. I know awesome jobs aren't growing in trees (ha! that's my cliche) but it's not too much to ask to be somewhere comfortable, with decent people, and decent money...
Don't worry about reading the story! It was more of an exercise to stitch together the sentences all those people gave me... but it's a very confusing result. Maybe when I edit it and make it better, you can read it.
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see the important thing is what you do outside of work, and how you spend your time. I have to email you and talk to you about something okie?
I miss you so so much
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I'm going to go read a bit now and then bed. have a lovely evening.
♥
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Poor Ollie!
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"cock-loving christian." that phrase will ring beautifully throughout my head the rest of the day.
=)
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So you are making home-made movies now? Have you got any solo "Sinister Devil" vids out there? I've got cash...
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for the big bucks i'll fork over something even more exciting than a solo vid...maybe him and someone else you know...?
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Any luck on the moving-to-Canada front?
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The moving to Canada plan gets further and further away... Kevin's sisters are moving here this Summer and we are going to live in a big house, like a big family.
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;)
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(Ignore your Teletubbies. The Cellar is the place to be.)
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I'm psychic and you must not ignore my warnings. Right now, I'm sensing that you must collect your flashlight and crawl into the cellar. A happy secret awaits you there.
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There are no spiders there. But there is a Happy Secret, for sure.
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