night shifts. i can't escape the phrase without some deep physiological reaction i can feel in my spine; the feedback from the purple and black chemicals in my brain that describe fearloathingdepression.
2;00 am
i think of
Stanley Kubrick when walking down endless, white hallways and position myself in front of a pair of vending machines at two am. behind the plastic window stand armies of identical, edible products wrapped in plastic.
the change machine blinks at me in regular intervals with an onminous red light, and it makes me think of Kubrick again.
temporarily out of service.
3;00 am
there was some dregs left in the coffee dispensors in the cafeteria that's run during the day. in a claustrophobic little passage stuffed with vendin machines and other boxes i find a microwave to heat it up, and i catch my reflection in a window directly across from the entrance of the small hallway; i'm encased in a small rectangle of light.
four down... three to go.