Mind Hive

I was in the fucking heart of a bureaucratic nightmare. Forms and taxes were being thrown in the air like paper airplanes. "These people are savages!" I think to myself - contradicting the orderly atmosphere of the neat desks and protocols, and all the waiting...the waiting. "What did I do last year?" I couldn't remember. The terrible memories of attempting to navigate the endless halls and offices on mescaline. I had a good hour or so to go. But I was wrong, terribly wrong. Mescaline wasn't as good as in the days of Hunter Thompson. So I barely got my money into the hands of the greedy little accountants at the cashier before I started noticing the intense contrast of the Blue lettering against the snow white wall. I could see 5, maybe 6 shades of these fucking colours! 

"Sir....Sir.......Mr. Brown!"

"What?" I asked sincerely. "Oh yes, here's 35.09" I handed my hard earned cash over. In return I received a blue piece of paper. My busking license. And here I was, one year later in the same place. I forgot the rest of my experience from that long ago day. The people seemed a lot more rude this year. They pronounced my name wrong on the loud-speaker. 

"Cooper Bro-In to number six" Echoed the loud speaker. Then I waited for no one. She came. A fat, stout Italian-looking women. In her 30's.

"I need a road allowance permit for busking" I said. She began inquiring after a few pieces of information.

"Oh, by the way I had one last year...if that helps?" I mention, smiling

"OH! Well then just pay at the cashier" She responds in a bitingly annoyed voice, as if unnecessarily entering two pieces of information had cost her her Friday night.

"You know it doesn't cost you money to smile right?" She flashed me a cold stare.

"Boogely boogely boogely!" I exclaim.

 I walked away. After paying my dues to an equally rude cashier, I headed outside, lit up a cigarette and waited for my bus. I looked over toward the Hospital across the street. I had gone in there earlier to use their ATM. Hospitals always depressed me. The sick and dying, however this one seemed rather tame. I waltzed in there in my white dress shirt, aviators and youthful health. I obviously attracted due attention, but made up when I made conversation with a veteran waiting for the ATM alongside me in his wheel chair. He seemed to appreciate this very much and this lift of spirits got me through the Mind Hive that is any formal government building. (Aside from most Environment Ministries/Department) I  took my long  subway ride home and got halfway through "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly". What an amazing piece of literature. If only I spoke fluent french to read the original translation. I wish to learn french and spanish later on in life. I wish I could take it in School, but there is a fucked up school system to blame for that. That I will get into another day. But Today, I went to the centre of hell, and made it back with another 35 dollar piece of paper. God help me.

p.s. For those interested in further reading into why the north american school system fails - I recommend  This article in "An Amazing Mind".