Banana Lasers And The Robot Monkeys Who Eat Them

I've noticed recently that this job is sucking away my will to live; I am no longer interested in anything.

I can barely get myself to post, and now there is blank space where there used to be space aliens, super magnets, monkeys with lasers, robots eating bananas, and colors of (literally) every hue imaginable.

Now it's a great, grey, sucking void. And Time is the culprit. Time has been absent in my life for almost seven months. Instead of free moments to exult in flights of imagination and my waking hours are filled with constant chatter, noise without substance, static.

If Time would get off his lazy ass and find his way back into my life I would even refrain from punching him squarely in the nose and maybe offer to buy him a beer. There are some no-good friends you're angry at until the moment they show up on your doorstep.

The point is this: While here at work under a barrage of trades, a deluge, an unstoppable pitter-patter against the window of my sanity (a window that is closing fast, now), nothing else can make any noise.

I, quite figuratively, cannot hear myself think - and there is no way to tell if I'm just not thinking loud enough, or if I'm just not thinking at all.

-t