job hunting is like trying to sell cloth to a clothes line.
you have to convince yourself, and the clothes line, that bearing cloth is normal.
is every cloth draped line, bent heavy, swaying in a sunlit afternoon, happier than the others?
the others, standing just as tall.
the others, entertaining birds.
the others, undressed without defense-scaring sheep.
job hunting is your last cigarette rained on.
the wet paper turning clear, exposes the guts.
forcing you to smoke it gently; or through it in the gutter.
it forces you to lie, by telling the truth.
to dance, interpretively, to the sound body language makes, underwater.
I can hold my breath for 30 minuets without laughing.
job hunting is for losers because winners already have jobs.
but if winners have jobs then what's the second job for?
and in the real world you wouldn't have to bleed, just to blink.