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the noise of obscurity Monday, November 2 1998
I've been creative of late, extremely creative in fact, but my creations are still in a state where no one can see them or appreciate their ingenuity, not even my co-workers, the only population of people who will ever be impressed by them. I'm beginning to realize that as I spend more and more time at work making things for The Man, I'm spending less and less time making things that identify me as an individual and express my precious independent humanity. Today I had a strange drowning sensation, that maybe my individuality is being lost in the overwhelming din of obscurity sent up by the great bulk of mankind. I feel as if, in a few weeks, I'll become so insignificant that no one will care if I should unexpectedly be sucked up by a UFO and flown away to serve out the rest of my mortality as a zoological exhibit.
It's my father's 76th birthday today. Kim thought I should call him, but it was already late in the East and I knew better than to bother him over something so trivial as a birthday. Kim has to learn that family rules, paradigms, that are followed without exception in her family simply don't apply in mine.
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