The Daley Plaza

Everyone is naturally is attracted to the fountains at Daley Plaza in the summertime. But when I go, I have an express purpose to go there at lunch. I have an ingrained, some people might call morbid, superstition that if I throw enough pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters into one of the spring- like fountains, and make a wish almost each and every day, this job with a salary, benefits, and paid time off will materialize out of nowhere.. And a good standing with the boss. Most of all, a standing with the boss, because people are complaining about my "weird" personality to the boss, even though I'm a lowly temp.

The crazy thing is this unforeseen job has, that will appear out of nowhere, will be my mental health undoing. So here I am asking for something that's going to one day put me on disability because I will not survive the office culture,especially since this job is especially toxic, and everyone feels it.

But driven by the mad desire to "prove" myself, I kept wishing, hoping and thinking based on someone else's reality. I do not know yet I have a serious disorder that is dragged through the coals every time I work, and push myself to the utmost professionism, that is either a) dirty work or b) cosmetic.

When I finish the job - "an honorable discharge", I will go home, read one novel over and over because I identify with the main character Helen, a very business like junkie/prostitute, because I wish I had her power. The book nowawdays would be termed "creative non-fiction", but since it's written in the 1960's. it more like a novel. The Panic in Needle Park by James Mills. My friend Tim bestowed it on me years earlier, but it is only now, when I read it 25 times in a row, that I'm assured the corperate life is very much like a junkie's life, only the clothing and food are all better. But it makes no difference.

I had to see the worse of it coming when I threw that small change into the Daley Plaza fountains. But I couldn't, because body bothered to write a book about how power and heroin are practically the same.

Then I go to used coin store around the corner, because, adviously I have thing about coins, and stare and stare at them like a woman making up her mind about a dress.

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