Richard Cory

Richard Cory
by Edwin Arlington Robinson, 1869-1935

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him;
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—

And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

College: Day One

If there is to be a downfall in my college career it will either be due to a lack of a job (i.e. income) or MATH. A friend once told me that math is the only thing that makes sense in this world, he said that it is the one place where 1 and 1 will always equal 2. He said this with such reassurance, and I believe that this prospect truly brings him a sense of peace.

“Math: It brings order to the world.”

Perhaps that is why I hate it so. This world has never been equal or balanced! Contrary to these plastic man made beliefs, which inevitably decay by our own design. Although your inner child, or perhaps your inner adult, may cry out “that’s not fair”, please allow me to state my case.


Tartak, Anammelech Ashima, Succothbenoth. Ra, Odin, and Zeus all held the absolute truth. These all but forgotten gods told their people that 1 and 1 would always equal 2. The people devoted learning institutions, languages, even their very lives to these beings in the faith of their omnipotent equations. Where are they now? Crushed and lost under the wheel of time. Truth be true, they each had a part to play in the development of mankind. But at what cost? As the world was once flat, the square route of pie IS 1.772453851. The world is in a constant state of flux, a flux that no prideful mammal with opposable thumbs could ever fathom. Now the fruits of math may be seen on the face of your clock, or the face of a child burned by a radioactive fallout. Math brings me no peace; the price you see is too high.

There was a time when the new moon was the only thing that held the darkness of night at bay. The bright moonlight forced the creatures that would come for us to be seen, but as the waning crescent took to the sky’s we knew our place in the world. Mythic things would take you in the dark, right? It was a time to fear, a fear of the unknown, a time to fear the chaos of our world. It was a time when 1 and 1 didn’t equal 2. So you can keep your cultural security blanket, I know that some times the shit in this life doesn’t add up.

Oh, be sure to tell me what the mathematical probability of being eaten by a lion would be when you hear the jaws SNAP shut around your throat. Never mind I am sure we will work that one out next week in class.

Then again, it could be that whole job/money thing.

It doesn’t matter

Evolution, growth, development is never a pleasant experience. It seems that the fruits of “change” are all to often brought forth by the ugly hand of pain. Our own masochistic selves are often the protagonists in the development of Life’s individual and stagnant chrysalides to move forward. We feel drawn in by the dangerous and volatile nature of the real and fictitious life around us. We are complacent in our modern day existence, but our primal urges seek an unconscious destruction that knows no bounds. In our happiest moments we squint into the dark parts of our lives, anticipating the imminent destruction of our current euphoria. Why? Why must suffering entice us so?

The fact is that mankind is a broken and bloated animal. We are lions without a pride, so we cheat on our wife’s. There is no hunt for our sustenance; so scowling we swim the infested waters of Wal-Mart. The pain of our fellow man does not concern us as much as the window attendant at MacDonald’s forgetting the fries in our #6. The word “strife” has lost its meaning and potency for us all. You may think me a pompas and arrogant voice, but I assure you that I am no different than you in this unequivocal decline. At the core of us all is the innate desire to tear our fucking world apart, just to provide and opportunity to overcome…ourselves. It’s lonely at the top! And so our minds and actions over complicate the world around us, our pride forces a new injurious paradigm with every enlightened step forward. Think about this; the select few who strive to become something more or to show us a better way are vilified and idolized within the same breath.

We lack, nah, we necessitate desperation. And if the reliance of our desperation is misplaced in the hands of another we are all too quick to take on the obligation and thrash ourselves.

I would not give you the “truth” if I had it. If I could give you this “truth” I speak of, you would simply wipe your ass with it. Later you would hold that filthy thing up for the entire world to see, and tell them what a flawed and disgusting thing I have given you. Oh yes, another tainted testament to the evolution of human enlightenment. I can think of only one thing that may give you some temporary solace: Temporary, for your pride would never let it take hold in your mind.

It doesn’t matter, all your pain and suffering. It doesn’t matter.

Workamphetamine

We shuffled into the factory the next morning. I would have rather stayed in bed, but they have money and pills at work! Its better when I’m at work. When I stay home I usually just masturbate, but not too fast. No, I take my time…hours if need be. I wait until I find the perfect, and free, 30 second pornographic video clip. Only then do I allow myself to cum. Discipline, my friend. After that there really isn’t much else to do. Now that’s no way to live day in and day out! Some of you think that’s a horrible reason to go to work, but you’re poor, no one wants to be your friend, and people don’t admire you…you people wouldn’t understand.

Fuck you! Fucking judgmental pieces of shit!

Besides, they let me out for three to four ours every evening…sometimes. You tell me how the hell I am supposed to buy all the stuff I need without money!

How asshole, tell me?

Oh I see, so my family can think I’m a failure, so I can take someone out on a date in my GEO Metro and bring them back to my 400sq. ft. apartment on the west side and hope that they don’t throw up with disgust!?! So I can be like you?! No one would even want to know my name if that’s all I brought to the table as an active and contributing member of society. Maybe I could eat out of dumpster and beg for spare change too, only to be told by every single person that they “don’t have any cash” or all they have on them is “credit cards”.

You must be fucking insane.

The pills? Lord knows I need the pills. Without them I don’t move, I don’t want to, I can’t…I tried once, and that was enough for me to see the light. The company knows what’s best. They have to care for a thousand other employees. You don’t take care of that many people and not know what’s best for them. Besides, the CEO said “good morning” to me when we crossed in the bathroom yesterday. I’m on my way up!!

Want to hear a true story? They don’t like us to talk about it but…

Last year the company almost went under when they handed out antidepressants before our shifts started. It took a while for them to realize that it wasn’t depression that was affecting our productivity, but rather an acute inability to focus. I am glade they realized it before it was to late. It’s good to know they are looking out for me. Who knows what I would have done if left to my own devices.

There has been some crazy talk going on around here lately.

I have heard some of them whisper as they huddle in around the water cooler at lunch that it could be the job that has forced us to loose our humanity, and that it is the lose of our humanity which makes us indifferent to life in general…or something like that. I don’t know. I honestly can’t really hear what they are saying exactly, I have so much work to do, bits and pieces to count, and a good work reputation to justify. I am a hard worker! If what was ruining our work ethic wasn’t what they said it was…then why do I always get so much done now?

I don’t like to think the other way. Nothing good ever comes of it.

Sometimes when I do my left arm goes numb, and it feels like someone is slowly dragging a frozen knife across the top of my skull. It’s cold, so cold when that happens, it passes though. Although sometimes I want to scream and smash my head against the wall, but that would be crazy, and I’m not crazy. It’s not painful mind you, but every fiber of my being wants to bust with some inexplicable rage. A calm rage…if there is such a thing. No, no that’s wrong. It’s more like a time elapsed tree growing inside me, and it’s all I can do not to let its branches explode from my body.

I go through the rest of the day working frantically, hoping that I get enough done to please my superiors. After all, it is their clock that tells me when I come to the factory in the morning, when I go home. They will let me know when it’s okay to fall in love, settle down, and start a family. I don’t have to worry about when it’s alright to sleep, or get sick. When I can die or make new friends. Who has time for that anyway?

You know what I mean…don’t you?