Wednesday, February 1


The highlights of temping today at C. Financial Services were a) learning to use this typewriter and b) sneakily printing 121 pages of my own writing on the office printer. I brought along two sheets along with me so that, on first glance, it would appear that I was doing something I was supposed to be doing--kind of like the whole cook always having a spoon in hand method. If anyone actually did discover what I printed, I was going to say, "It's my grad school portfolio" (which is basically true). If they pressed me and asked why I was printing it there, I would reply "My printer's broken, and I don't want to be a temp all my life" (both of which are also true). Still, the whole time I felt like I was stealing (also, in a way, was true. You know: paper, printer ink, my hourly wage.)

What I'm trying to say is that today I was paid to write. Or at least paid to print out my writing.


Benny said...

I like this post. It's very glass-is-half-full. Also, fuck the man. He doesn't OWN ink and paper. Art's gotta breath, boy!

All Best,


James said...