31st
Everyone is leaving
Functions of your mind become automatic. Your palms learn to tolerate the scorching ceramic heat. The stinging sensation from the small burn on your forearm becomes a minor frustration, buried in the back of your mind between your financial issues and the memories of Europe. The hours spent breathing in steamy fumes (which are laced with the mixed scent of potatoes and twelve dozen different dressings) force you to abandon most of your senses.
The process of working as a dishwasher is mostly mechanical, mentally. You sort of find yourself scrubbing out all the bullshit that has accumulated in your brain over the past few days, everything becomes squeaky clean. But once it’s all been cleaned you’ve still got to keep cleaning, because theres nothing else to do with your frontal lobe. You can’t just abandon it like you did your senses. So you keep thinking, scrubbing away thoughts that you thought you’d lost. And now you’re thinking like you did when you were 13, that is, you’re thinking excessively.
Next week I have to work with Nurmal, which is going to suck, because she’s a fat bitch. She’s going to work extremely slow and she’s going to yell at me when I work fast, because she wants the overtime hours.
At least I’m making money.
School starts soon, it’s going to be a tough year.
