Work Ones

chatter chatter song

07.27.2005 Work Ones

I am working, working, working, in an ice, ice, box. Little hairs on my arms, stand up. Little hairs on my legs, stand up. I have no coat and I have no car and I’m iced cube, dirty yeah Mam.

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Ben teaches elocution:

07.21.2005 Work Ones

in British: shut tha frond daw Merican translashun: shut tha frunt daaaaar workplace agenda: shut the fuck up [brought to you from the international bungalow that is news target dot com, dot com, dot com]

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Stu, little Stu

07.14.2005 Rants

Why do you have to be so indignant, little Stu? Your room is made for you. The walkers round the building read your abstracts and, digging it, reach around you for support. Say “aghast” things, my Stu, a la these principles. Who are your sentences, Stu, but trolls on the drawbridge. That is a wire.

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Smallie

07.11.2005 Work Ones

The tissue is small. I swipe my rapt of lift- like it

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I am no afraid of an army of checks

07.08.2005 Rants

this grid is bearded and knitted, altogether grand- parently, it turns on and off the lights, lights the offices of the banks and open-late lenders, lights the lines of a spreadsheet — do go on. You will never reach the end, said the spreadsheet. The figures are flat, your name and salutation, address, PS. there [...]

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ontology of a check

07.08.2005 Work Ones

during work I am stirring and something moves around that I am moving, and some things are not. This is the key to analysis, and is also the key to journalism which is the grand-father of all public policies including but not limited to FDA regulations, EPA regulations, and other instruction manuals issued en masse. [...]

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A Merican Boss

07.07.2005 Work Ones

My boss luvs A. merica. He jist wans us to be really real A. mericans. I luv my bossie- bear He biz- nusses me and pays me to rite and he patron- eyes me bout eatin an all of my Diet Coke. We flip and we flop a round. I slap at the in-nerds of [...]

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mine eyes have seen

07.07.2005 Work Ones

I want it to boom whoa, my car is peeling out of an articulated space, run the stop clobber me cheeks Go home was sun boom it was sun.

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The news is in

07.02.2005 Work Ones

I have met my replacement. She is very thin, and nerves show around her neck. Now you are falling into form, poor lady. This palace of employment awaits, is upon you, takes you something into sure wood forests. Mama says you & Robin Hood ah sweet tarts.

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The Big B

06.30.2005 Work Ones

The big B is Bisbee and he’s here, the, the man without sleeves. He’s a community perhaps, leaning as if he were leaning in. My desk is like a pigeon skiffing the fallout underneath the white skys of Bisbee. Bisbee, lo. Tuned to our sufferers. One-one thousand, two-one thousand little pigeons with sore throats, sneezing, [...]

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