Thursday, February 28, 2013

Restaurant of the Trinity

Another ailment I must suffer from, as any other man, is hunger. Not desirous satisfaction to be upheld by self-loving as well as coidal experiences. hunger for food, for survival, as long as a body needs its own drive, we must attend to it. Some, caught in their own sexual tensions would already have derived that intercourse is an actual hunger we need to let our bodies fulfill the actual purpose. That, however is not the case and I cannot point that out enough. We have reached many scientific breakthroughs, some of them even deeming the need for women unnecessary. Especially cloning and the idea of having foster parents, as in mice, where you remove the egg from the mother and inject sperm into it. The ability that we can make test tube children, is delightful. I will be able to let my genes go forth and conquer without even having to work for it thus will create an heir without letting myself delve deep into the Id, and burn up with the long diminished passion I so have neglected, some would say, for those of the opposite gender.

Today must have been the first day of the week, where no such events as earlier occurred, slowing the slow progression of my lobby, into a madhouse. It must have been the stagnant air, which Frida carried with her, that caused the slightly mad tendencies in Tom. Today I could greet him, and he even SMILED at me. In a blissful way, as he had seen an angel. That must be my true power which radiates beyond my mere human body, envisioning my closest staff to blissful life. I will have to find a woman who can work as an obedient dog, as Beatrice, in the lobby. It will be hard. My ever watchful eye in the top of the tower, has a burning clear path to Beatrice, assuring none of her woman's guile turns a revolution against me. I have not handed out cake to the poorer, but I imagine the wrong words still would put me in the guillotine, and out of this place as fast as any royal family wording their true opinions to the wrong persons. That decision must come during the weekend, where I might find the true inspiration, or in the elevator. Now is the time to get to the office.

After a long day at work I tend to go out eating, especially after a long calm day, there is none better than going out to Restaurant of the Trinity. It is an interesting name, father, child and holy spirit combined with a godly serving of dishes no other restaurant would be able to bring forth. As I am the god of this place, always lined first in any queue, the waiter addressing me by name, I would say the food is the holy spirit brought forth. My inspiration on numbers, tenfolds, goes binary and closes on itself in a collapse of fractals I cannot even start to imagine at this point. The exterior of this quite expensive restaurant, is not anything you might think it as. There is no holy trinity. The restaurant is placed in a crossing of 3 roads, a giant building inspired by Chinese in design and symmetry. inside it, every table is placed in it's own stall, to create a comfort zone for each and everyone. They have a V.I.P. lounge where several zones are fit as one, originally thought as a zone for socializing in the different circles of businessmen. It happens on occasion I find someone there and have a quick talk with them, hiding myself well under my facade, cracking his little secrets, creating yet another set of strings to puppeteer such a firm around on the great stock market.

The trinity actually refers to the owners, which are a trinity of corporate firms  funding the Master chef to hire any staff he prefers. My firm is among one of them. I pay nothing for the food, since I have direct funding into the place from my monthly revenue, a hospitable amount.
Today, a minestrone soup as first course and a great red steak as the main. I never eat desserts, as it activates our more dark sides, and desires. I do no desire, and therefore am not tempted by such. As I was on my way out, I received a receipt. Signed with a red kiss....


"What is the meaning of this" I blurted out to the waiter.

 He looked at me as he had never seen the note before, a quizzical look for anyone who just delivered such a timebomb into my hands. Already it had infected my with it's touch, and placed itself deep into the sockets of my retina as well as memory. I marched into the kitchens, yelled at the master chef, who stoof stary eyed and apologized to me ensuring that this man, this bastard of a man, would be fired immediately for his intolerance to the founders of this place.

This apology was enough to resettle my mood, for the day, and as I walked out, the waiter approached me, this time at least, not holding a note, but instead looking perplexed at me.

"A woman have been here to leave you this note" a monotone voice for such a man, but I got the idea, that the joke was on me and ignored his now empty hand automated to show me where the note should have been.

I am not a violent man, and the rage which I had had before, had subsided back into the deeper depths of consciousness where it resides. I simply gave the poor man a nod, satisfied with his destiny soon to be. On the streets of the city. I crumpled the note I had received and threw it over my shoulder to the front doorstep, before taking my walk home to rest after such a day as today.



Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Staff Meeting

I had a quick question at my office yesterday, by mail of course, nobody enters a dragons lair uninvited. And I see no Knights, only jesters around me. I invite them to my court to hold a grand feast on a weekly basis. At such occasion I laugh some, I eat some, and I devour most, of the inconsequent words presented at powerpoint, reciting information already in my hand. Of course I am the one who rather laughs than hand-feeds those little birds, chirping away all the day. If not they had their little hats and cowls in different colors to match their stupidity, I would feel it a waste of my general time... Appearances appearances!

They quiver and quiet as I stand tall at the end of the table, hammering my hand firmly to the table, nailing their facts to through every floor of the building, and down into the basement. 

The Question; rather surprising, was an inquiry whether I ever sleep or not. There was even a bold statement, pronouncing me a workaholic - The word itself is degrading for one as me, into a status of mindless peon. Workaholic, please. It is not an addiction, but a function to be sure that today's society develops as you wish it. I revere it more as a sacred duty, I am obliged, nay forced to do, to uphold and with such vigor that the pillars of society shall not falter. And this is why I am not a workaholic. 
Concerning sleep, yes of course I sleep, every human being need to recharge and be rested. I know that I am sometimes beyond the mere capabilities of the "common" man. But, alas, even sometimes instinct must be in upheld, and sleep must claim me, like it does any other being.  

Today I woke up, as any other day, to the sound of my alarm. Unlike others I don't cuddle to my pillow, wife or whatnot, but would rather turn my body from my one man bed, sit up, stretch and go out of my bedroom. My bedroom is rather small, there is no need for the modest effects of design, which the woman imports into the bedroom to show her affectation of objects. I know it lies in her instincts, and as such so hard to suppress, where we as men, are superior and beyond design and exterior looks of a modern home. I have heard many a tales of before and after a housing is shared between those bonded between genders. The man interested on effective function of an object, no matter the looks, where the woman only desires.. DESIRES the looks of the object, second rating the effectively. Oh and some wonder why Eve took the apple, she had no desire for the function, only the beauty, the round shapes, she herself and her body wore. Desire my friends, is what she made Adam do, she made him convinced the function was to the best of both, and cunningly she trapped him out of the garden of Eden, cursing him forever to be bound by her. 

From my bedroom I can walk into the hallway, which contains on the left side 1 large toilet and by the entrance, a walk-in closet. When you have as many suits and briefcases as I have, the need for storage where no folds are created expands. Such a closet meets my every need, and the function is fulfilled. On the right side I have my kitchen with an adjourning home office overlooking the streets. This apartment is not so expensive, 11 floors, and easy to get to and from. My driver arrives exactly 1 hour after I have woken, and it takes exactly 15 minutes by car to arrive at the building, and that is even with heavy traffic. My hours begin 45 minutes before the first arrival, other than the 2 at the lobby, who opens the building 2 hours before I arrive. Punctuality is important to maintain control, or in some cases, the illusion of control. 

As it is Wednesday I will go to the right heading for the employee elevator, heading up to the 49'th floor - The floor below mine. It is here all the last 10 floors partake in the weekly meeting. 2 from the 49'th floor will be attending - One of them is Brian, the leadership behind a revolution against me inside the firm. Nobody really sides with him, but they have to mark their consent, as he has worked his way from the bottom and up here. He is good at what he does, predicting. I have placed him to my left, as he has the heart, but no brain, only working his way to best others, and like the first Knight of King Arthur, he will at one time deceive the firm, bonding with a new one, to be my newest competition. Easy to outsmart, maybe not in the fight, but the battle he cannot withstand true strategy. One move at a time Brian. To my right is the master of the floors, and the only other important person in this company, Paul. He stands out with his too big, black lined glasses, dark brown short hair braided to one side, a stiff shirt and red tie to match his grey pants, grey pen and black shoes. He is punctual. He requires order. It is him I trust with planning the meetings, delivering a wide array of entertainment through the day. Behind me, Beatrice will sit weighing the words on the electronic screen immortalizing the mortal persons mistakes. She will be my whisperer of any grammar mistake, I can take a cheery laugh at. 


In this medieval fare today it seems we both have jugglers, lepers and the women with beard entertaining. The first jugglers pretend that the pie diagrams shows any real statistics, and lies are thrown through the room warning us of competition. As a good jester he drops his balls in the end, to my counter argument and everyone laughs and claps at my command. Our lepers, with news from the bottom floors, crawl up to the front and roll around in the dirt of their own words as I command them to begone, and with them they can take these quotes of people who needs to be replaced within next week. Sheer joy leave more people homeless at my doorstep, may they die so stronger ones can replace them. There is no room in this society for weakness or dull looking, much gloating pantomimes imitating what could be good work. 

At last for the kings surprise - I heave my glass and welcome those last entertainers of the fun-fare and toast to their good luck. these metrosexual blenders, who talk until their beards start growing out again. They do prolong the words of strategy, making no true points, but still an interesting hear. I listen, and smile, knowing that there is no doomsday prophet on this day. I accept their plans as they have grown into old wise men after their dubious discussions in front of me. Shake their hand, and watch how their eyes idolize me, from top to toe. Turn off my facade slightly, giving them a wicked grin of power, before turning my back exiting with no fanfares of trumpets in my wake; Rather just the hands in my pockets, leaving them to gaze, open-mouthed, at my back, while I take my exit. Beatrice is just behind me and enter the elevator at the same time. I do not turn, as there is no need. She knows her place, this dog.  

Already as I exit the elevator, I sense the time soon would come for closing this day. Hence I would be going to my office until late hours, watching, waiting for every click of the machine to tell me to do my work, so we can control in unison. I walk briskly towards my elevator, and as I raise my head in sure steps I see an unannounced visitor by Frida. She is in deep conversation, it seems, but I register her turning her head while speaking to Frida, paying the poor woman at the desk no mind. 

This woman... Unannounced.. That is typical women to come and go as they please, but not in Castle. Discipline is the only works against their works of Desire. I pick up my pace, to reach her as fast as possible, this woman, wearing a red dress. I saw her the other day too! I am sure, that such a woman returning, only is ill boding. Like a ship, no woman should be allowed, at least not uninvited, that is bad luck indeed. 
She is turning to leave, I am at an almost run to reach her, but in some manner she is faster than me, with her devilish movement. She is in flight out of the entrance, and as I reach it, gone with the ever flowing stream of ignorant passersby. 


I walk up to Frida DEMANDING who that woman was, and she just looks at me blankly, and tells me there has been no woman in here today. It is outrageous that she can do her chitchat with ladyfriends and just ignore my orders. I told her, if such a thing occurs again she would immediately be replaced and set on the street. Then she began crying, and Beatrice went to her. Such an event should not occur within my walls, a woman crying, showing feelings. At that moment I opened my briefcase neatly. Had no other choice than take out a letter of resignation and write in her name. "There is no need of you here anymore Frida, I will write you a small recommendation, and you can go to a womans magazine and cry your tears there. This is a male firm, no tears are shed within these walls, and no lying either". 
I left her with Beatrice and the letter and strolled calmly to my own elevator. It felt odd, touched by someone. Ah I saw at that time there was a fingerprint. Blasphemy!

I took out my handkerchief and quickly wiped off the fingerprint just before the doors opened, with their silent pleasing sound. Inside stood Tom, a frightened look on him today. He might have been in here since I closed down yesterday. He stood mumbling a bit and looked to all sides, most of all resembling a religious fanatic. I was in no mood to handle him too, and he was a man of work after all, my true knight. A little mental instability should be no cause of concern. 

There was no grandeur in this small prodding of the poor man into the hallway, but he at least seemed more comfortable as soon as he was outside. I leaned against the cold glass, feeling the embrace of my own cold reflection, and my thoughts swam into the deep lake of mathematics, inspiring me yet again, as the elevator ascended, so did I, yet again.

Beyond any thought of man, I stood at last at the top, and would rest here in my true being.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Beatrice the Secretary

Having already described the lobby of my Castle, today we will acquire further knowlegde as to what my lair has to offer. The place that is sacred, where only the most prominent knights in my order are allowed to enter. And of course a lady, but only one to sit at my side and be quiet and condescending. Of course my side, is next to my office, we shouldn't have too much physical contact between man and woman in such a sacred place. I have to admit, of course, that I am as sacred as my office, and as such should never be defiled by any external source. Especially not gender.

As every other day I walk through the lobby, greeting Tom, who is, today, staring feverishly at the entrance with wide bloodstained eyes, in such a manner, one should think they were about to pop. Oh how I love him, and he surely has his moments. Most important of all, is that his cleaning is eminent yet another day, one should think that he never left this building.

Is that sweat trickling down his forehead? If so I know he would never accept a sickday, even if I permitted it, as I know he needs the work as much as I need mine. Today, I had dressed myself to effortlessly slip between the throng of ignorants, by disguising myself as one. Suit all dark, my blue tie neatly pressed against my more than averagely fit body, and 3 times ironed white shirt. What sheer joy there is to blend with such perfection, my Tuesday briefcase spoiled to the touch of other people, to be ventilated through real New York pollution, before returning to the clinical ever so safe environment. Of course, tomorrow, with the weekly staff meeting, I will wear my Wednesday briefcase.

Yes I walked to my tower today, because mingling among these slaves, without the use of any words, but just looks, creates such a glee. It is easy to spot the slaves from the masters. These foul looking, mind deserted spacers, who either stare blankly or look down on the pavement in a 'hurry', crying those unspilled tears inside. Those, who have all the nurture and love from their so loving wife and children, have run away from their true nature. They have run away from truth! from godhood! spilled themselves into the gutters of creation, to multiply by coital activity of the bodies, in the hope of creating true potential, that one day will rise, as I have done.

Those thoughts repeat themselves to me over and over, as I walk to my elevator along the majestic floor, and use my key to summon forth my sun chariot, ready to bring a new dawn to those who still walk in shadow and darkness.
As the doors open I see in the mirrors now surrounding me, a glimpse of the basement parking lot. But with a blink of my eye it was gone. I stop in with my usual straight looking true fact, A grin to match my suit. Oh how the sun shall rise today!

In my praising of my own selflessness to help those lost sheep as the sheepdog I am, there is room to exclaim a "Hallelujah!" and clap together my hands, turning around, to face the exit of the elevator.

The soothing sound of a ping, as my destination on the top of Mount of Olympus have been reached, here I can control the weather and ways of man undisturbed. Or almost at least

In front of me stands Beatrice. A woman, in her late twenties, wearing a long skirt and loosely cut shirt by my recommendation. Letting her shed any light on bare skin would create chaos in the order of work. I have of course hired her for the looks, not for myself, but for my underlings, so I can maintain the image of control. Her body is more than averagely shaped, the female lines marking a well developed woman. Even in the modest clothing I have forced upon her, the skirt is a tight fit, while her top just lightly touches the skin of beneath in the swirling wind as she strides with power to show her status in the firm. She tries, as all devious women would do, to woo one such as me, but I am incapable of desiring anything but my work, much to her obvious regret. I can see it of course, but maintain my fake smile to at least cheer her with that. Bad morale is bad for company, and in the end I would have to fire her.

Women who work, should always be a face of the person who hires them. She is not stupid, luckily, and accepts the minimum wage for women with a neutral true face always ready to do my bidding. She is my desk cleaner, and all the paperwork and indexing is at her hands. Also, she is the one who takes the elevator down on Tuesdays to collect the weekly reports from each of the last top 10 floors. I greet her with a nod as she, on just the right time steps by me, trying to brush lightly against me. I do as I always do, and dodge her in my own powerful walk along my red carpet. I never talk unnecessary to this woman, and my speaker is never used. She has got her orders, and always follow them from one end to the next. It is part of an automated system, where she is my necessary robot to assure everything along the clockwork is working correct. For that I appreciate her, for her instincts as I woman, I loathe her. She must learn to control, if she wants to be in control, especially for us, the masters, and not the ones bound by masters.

The elevator doors closed behind me, and screeching noises as nails clawing to escape, followed the lift downward. I took at slight look behind my shoulder and shrugged. Nothing like mystic sounds of panic caused by inferior beings. No need to be in such a heat, but I have animals who tend to do unnecessary courtship for bonding of the opposite gender.

At last I stood in front of my sanctuary, which none of you shall know of.

Yet.

 I open my mahogany door and step into the lounge giving the full panorama view of the world below and above.

Here I am Being Supreme.


Monday, February 25, 2013

Tom the Janitor

You might know the lobby of any office building, but none so adamant and of course close to any perfection as mine. I can think of one person who made this possible. Tom the janitor. As I take my triumphant strides through the ever reflective lobby of my temple, there is nothing that is not completely clean. No dust bunny able to raise hairs on my neck, not even a scratch on any of the tiles. I am amazed to the powers he has with a mop.
Now you are all problably thinking that I must have a small lobby, but that is not the actual case my dear readers. My lobby, if I should describe such an eminent thing without giving it too little credit, is GRANDEUR itself. Even the entrance could just as well be the entrance to the vatican church, for all I know. My tower, my temple, my workplace, and what you could call my Godhood's beginning. There has been no sparing in hours setting up the ever reflecting tiles depicting several heroic scenes of history. I can follow these all the way to the lift, and would say about 100 strides into the building. What is on the way you say? I prefer having especially that walk, empty of any object that could manifest itself as a nuisance while I am walking. Only a kings path should be fitted to a king, as this is. That is why that elevator only can be used by me. In my firm you got to earn the right to use the elevator. Tom has the right to use the elevator as well as Beatrice. 

So with that in order, I must put my emphasis as to where the objects are placed in my lobby. To the left of the entrance is the counter which is at least a diameter length of 6 meters and as you could guess donut shaped. Inside is another gender paid worker called Frida, redhead with freckles, and eager to talk to anyone who enters the building. So these are my bottomfeeders, making sure the public eye NEVER gets too far into this place. On the right side are yet another waiting area spanning around 40 meters with much room in between. Also for my very loved plants neatly placed in rows. At the end of this there is a door to the left and 2 doors in-front. The one to the left leads into postal reception where all mail packaging is processed. The 2 doors right in-front is the employees entrance into my golden kingdom. One of the doors is a lobby for yet another elevator, this door is card locked. You have to attain a certain rank among my underlings to be able to use this one. The others must work their way to the top, and with that said I do not believe anyone below 10'Th floor has access to the elevator. Maybe only half of those to the 20'Th floor have and ALL on 30'Th floor have access to the elevator.

Back to Tom. Today he was odd. Or well he has been odd for many weeks now. He has begun to always stand in a trancelike state, his neck crooked down as if he was asleep. He is staring down at the floor, stabilizing his body on the mop. I fear that is does not bode well for him, and my love have diminished slightly although the floors still are as clean and shiny as ever - that saves his job for now; It is good to know how much he works himself for his job, as I am sure this is the outcome of. 
As I greet him with my everlasting "heyTom", he only mumbles back in resignation to me cheery posterior. That is a sad thing indeed, as it takes so much effort to built up such a true face hidden in lies and deception. 

I felt watched today, and Frida wasn't at the desk. I must remind her, that when Tom is in a state of mind as this, she is the guard of the building. She must remember, or she will be kicked out! 

I had to look over my back several times to ensure my own safety, all the way to the elevator, but nothing of peculiar interest or out of the ordinary was to see. I entered the elevator as any other day, and there just in my background I was sure a woman moved in slow strides towards me. But the doors closed even before I could glimpse anymore than her red dress.

The rest of the day went as any other, with my workhours and schedules being maintained to maximum efficiency. There never came any uncalled visitors, although I am sure I saw a woman in the lobby, other than Frida of course. 

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Religion

I have been asked, as an evaluation of "what leaders today" are thinking, to post daily updates considering my well-being and general information of what I am doing.
As I have already mentioned, women, those of what people call "the fairer sex", could not interest me more than watching a ship crossing into the horizon never to be seen again. So the question is what am I doing in my spare time since I've had my manly id removed post congenital leaving room for my ego and super ego (Yes I hear your jokes on the lower floors, and it amuses me too - Especially you Brian. That promotion is so far away). 

People have asked if I am a religious person, living in the US, a very religious country indeed, that is a logical question. One I have a need to answer.

 Considering my youth; my parents always pushed and prodded for us to go to church, to amend our sins and the like. We had a stronghearted preacher, with his mind in the right place, amending for all our sins in the whole community. I liked him, not because of the religion he was preaching, but because he was an honest man working hard to tell the stories he so believed in, working hard to work in fact. Another kind of work than I was interested in nonetheless, but still something he dedicated his whole heart and mind to. Religion.

I am not a believer in God as a whole, or any God if there should be several. I am not the one who should drive towards the Agnostic way of life, but rather I would fulfill my staying in Atheism. I do not go to church, and I have no contact with the religious side of our country. The gullible masses around me, would prefer me being catholic, as such a religion makes an honest man out of almost everyone. I good leader is a catholic leader. That happenstance makes me a terrible leader. Even my Atheism is drive out into it's own course. I believe, as some other, in the power of machines. I do not believe they are the ultimate power, but they are the power we create, and in the image we desire. We as man, should believe in ourselves as a person, and believe in what we can do if we wholeheartedly work as hard as possible to achieve it. There is nothing we cannot do if we do like that. Take me for example. I have reached the top, and keep my stay there until I die, because that is what my heart tells me and the belief I have wants me to. I believe I have the power as much as god does, just towards a smaller number of people. Most who work here, sees me as a mythical person. Why? - Well they have not seen me, and the rumors of how I got top the top floor have been hazy, if not impossible to explain. I did not do desk jobs before coming here, but went straight in, so obviously I am in most terms a hero. 

So that is all in all what I believe in, in the morning, and in the evening before I go to bed, myself!