Busy

I’m busy, I’m busy, sorry I can’t stop and talk to you, I’m busy, I’m just so fucking busy. Just look at me: Don’t I look busy? Well, that’s because I am. Very busy. Look at me, walking down the street with my suit and sunglasses. With my bluetooth headset stuck in my ear. Hell, I’m so fucking busy I can’t even use my hands to hold a phone. They’re busy holding a cup from Starbucks and a briefcase. I’m the image of busy, the allegory, the personification, the what have you. It’s busy-ness as usual.

Places to go to, people to meet, meetings to set up, appointments, rendez-vous, faxes to send, emails to write, calls to make, reports to write, files to file. Oh, yes, I’m busy. In fact, I am so busy I probably won’t even be able to drink my coffee. It doesn’t matter, I don’t even like coffee. Especially from Starbucks. I mean, come on: coffee from Seattle? Yeah, right. No, I won’t have time to drink it. I’ll probably pour it down the gutter in 30 minutes, once it’s cold. I don’t need to drink it. I just need people to see me carry this cup, because I look cool, I look like I’m on the go, like I don’t even have five minutes to sit and sip a cup of coffee. I gotta run all the time. Plus, Starbucks, everyone seems to like it there, so people respect me and they like me because I like what they like. I’m busy, but I drink Starbucks, how bad can I be, really? And my briefcase, just look at it. Italian genuine leather, more expensive than your television. It’s black, it’s smooth, it’s chic, it’s cutting edge, it’s sharp. You can imagine all the precious files I have in there, all the reports I’ve been working on round the clock for the past five weeks. It doesn’t matter that it’s empty. It doesn’t need to hold anything. It makes me look important, so it makes me feel important. Therefore, I am important.There are no two ways about it.

See me walk down the street, hear me talk to so and so in some far-off place, setting up a meeting in Dubai for next week, talking about having breakfast in Geneva and lunch in Rome. I am so fukcing busy. So busy I didn’t even have time to charge my bluetooth contraption, but it doesn’t matter. If it were working, I’d still be talking to far-off people in far-off lands that I’ll never ever see. I don’t even have a phone. I’m too busy to go get one. I can just phone people from my office anyway, it’s not problem. As soon as I get around to setting up a phone line. I just don’t have time for things like this. I’m just too fucking busy. It’s just insane how busy I am. I don’t even have time to look for a job, I’m so busy. Maybe one day I’ll find some time to find an apartment. Or a girlfriend. Or even a life. But I doubt it. Because I’m just so Goddamn busy, don’t you know.