Bilocate — part two (back on the job)

. . . continued from Bilocate — part one (minor demolition)

	Work? Everything is. Waged or waging with money or psyche, for some, neither balance out & tenderly continue in that drift like an ever-morphing résumé of embellished or left-off acceptabilities — a contrary game of mutual hustle, implying through over or undertone that you’re an overall team player! — all of it institutional theater of subtext & compromised routine illusion.

Team (cheap noun, capital verb & manipulative adjective): strapped animals principally harnessed to pull it together.

As for this hobby-job post, it’s time to get back to work now — like all things: temporary in the lengthy perception of the word, whether hourly or lifelong. 

&, with that abstractly set out, let’s drive up a mountain — one as physically real as the internal struggle to merely live — & meet the lot.

Think of it as engaging in a priceless waste of fictitious time . . . 

1/4
	Park somewhere past 6:30, ahead of schedule after a security gate check-in, & drive, hugging a narrow series of snow-plowed switchbacks. The surrounding sky is dawning right behind you, almost awake. Defrost, idling between alternating vices — a figurative continuation of what could be judged as prevailing minor demolition, but the first day of actual manual labor here at this Victorian lodge. 

Collect in the Human Resources portable prefab conference room with five other captured temps around a table for a health questionnaire, liability paperwork & respirator training.