Over the Wall

Darkness comes earlier now, and I, somehow, prefer it, though soon I will dread the long and lonesome nights.  But for now, the fading light does suit me.

I am trying to turn a corner, though, and perhaps working in the factory is not the best way.  I had to leave in the middle of the day today to come home and meet the gasman.  It was glorious to get over the wall.  Factory life is unnatural and life-defying.  It is everywhere to be resisted.

People were swarming about on the town.  I decided to run some errands since I was out, and then to have some lunch, too.  Everywhere I went, people were shopping and eating and laughing.  Does nobody work, I wondered?  All day long while I sit between four walls, people are happy and free.  But where, I ask myself, does the money come from?

A few hours at work, a two hour break, and back for a few more hours of factory life.  When I left, I did not feel as I usually do, beaten and worn, aching in my joints and tired in my bones.  I felt happier and more alive.  I felt resilient.  I stopped at a Greek restaurant and got my dinner, some chicken and a Greek salad, and when I got home, I went for a long hour and a half walk.

The evening seemed better after that.  A shower, some dinner and beer, the season premiere of "Boardwalk Empire," and something better than bootleg whiskey.  The night, I would say, was better than many.

I must remember not to let them have me, those evil bastards who want to make factories unbearable.  Greedheads must be defeated through small upheavals and little thefts.  We cannot give them anything. We shall not give them more.

Now, exercised and fed, full of expensive beers and scotch, I will end my day.  Bedward.  Wish me luck.  Tomorrow. . . who knows?