I Don't Do My Job

I Let It Ring. I Wanted To Breathe For A Few Minutes, And I Could Think Of Nothing That Couldn't Wait. Besides, I Had Paid Almost $50 For An Answering Machine. Let It Earn Its Keep.

Weren't We All Crazy In Our Sleep? What Was Sleep, After All, But The Process By Which We Dumped Our Insanity Into A Dark Subconscious Pit And Came Out On The Other Side Ready To Eat Cereal Instead Of Our Neighbor's Children?

Happily For Me, Ninety-nine Percent Of All Human Life Is Spent Simply Repeating The Same Old Actions, Speaking The Same Tired Clichés, Moving Like A Zombie Through The Same Steps Of The Dance We Plodded Through Yesterday And The Day Before And The Day Before. It Seems Horribly Dull And Pointless-but It Really Makes A Great Deal Of Sense. After All, If You Only Have To Follow The Same Path Every Day, You Don't Need To Think At All. Considering How Good Humans Are At Any Mental Process More Complicated Than Chewing, Isn't That The Best For Everybody?

What To Wear? I Could Think Of No Guidelines On What We Were Wearing This Season To A Party Forced On You To Celebrate An Unwanted Engagement That Might Turn Into A Violent Confrontation With A Vengeful Maniac. Clearly Brown Shoes Were Out, But Beyond That Nothing Really Seemed De Rigueur.

In Its Own Way The Kiss Had Been An Act Of Murder.