This website has no other purpose than to display Chris Barclay's apparent lack of writing talent.

An Insect, ft. A Shitty Thing I Supposedly Did

An Insect, ft. A Shitty Thing I Supposedly Did

There's an insect running through my brain. Sometimes it comes out of the cortex and jogs around for a bit, and sometimes it shies away and recedes back into the brain near the spine.

I get ten minutes a day to read. I read 5 minutes in the car before work, come home, watch house of cards, go to another work, read another 5 minutes, work, come home, and then watch more house of cards.

A few days ago, I typed in "entertain me" into the google search bar. It came up with the clickbait algorithm (number + booming-adjective + noun + that will make you ____ = views) 21 boredom-busting websites blah blah blah. A little down the page was a website for documenting letters sent between people. Letters of Note, the website is called. 

I am here, Jesse, where it seems there is only the dry sand and the wet blood. I do not fear so much for myself, my friend Jesse, I fear for my woman who is home, and my young son Karl, who has never really known his father
— Your brother, Luz
— Steve
But at least I finished it and if, from among the markings and the typing errors and the spelling mistakes, you can gather a little sense from what I have written - or a little nonsense - I should be extremely grateful for your criticism - though I hate criticism of any kind.

I want to write for the theatre, but I know so very little about it. I know nothing, have nothing - except a willingness to learn - and intelligence.
— Shelagh

On some day, my boss had not provided me a schedule for work. I texted him, asking for a schedule. I set my alarm for early in the morning, determined to call or text then, and make sure that I had a free day that day. I had planned to meet up with a friend, and needed to have that day free. No response was heard, nor received back.

Hailey had to clean the entire shop alone that night, because I was having fun with a friend discussing physics and literature and all of these fascinating things as well as video games he was looking forward to either playing or watching others play and my affinity for screwing up ACT essays.

Hailey had to clean up the entire shop, alone. This short, somehow intimidating young woman older than me by some 3 or 5 years. I was totally in the clear, I had had no word back from my boss and that day was my free day. She spent the last few hours of my free day washing greasy pans in the back of an empty kitchen. The only reason I am cognizant of this is because I overheard how she had to clean the shop alone one day, and made a joke probing "I can't imagine what it'd be like to have to clean the entire shop, why did you have to clean it alone?"

Because you weren’t there
— Hailey

There's something really sad about the pathetic. I felt pathetic. Do you understand me? I leave sincerity out of the workplace: customers like a smile on the face, not a real face-to-face interaction. I think it scares them. But god damn. My entire ego just dropped, and I just kept sweeping the floor, and I think I made some stupid joke. I remember offering an excuse, how the owner hadn't texted back something true and valid. I didn't talk to her much after that, because whenever I looked at her I would think in my mind about how she would drive home alone and a bit hungry and get something to eat and watch tv in a way unlike me. More of a sated numbed watching of tv than my bored watching. And I'd think about how she cursed while working and how I didn't, of course not to or around the customers, or the owners, but just privately and under her breath and with other coworkers. I thought of her cursing me, or at me, or at herself some situation she was placed in, maybe blaming herself for being placed in, and saying—alone—"wow! that was a really shitty thing for a person to do."

I hate the word "shit." I think people should stop using it, and all of its ugly adjectives. I hate it because it's a disgusting word. I also hate how the word makes this irritating and pretentious sound when uttered. It's an awful, unhelpful word. I believe that that is exactly the reason why it's so ubiquitous, because we can just fall onto it and tear down its meaning by saying it really fast or frequently. Because it's a curse word, and 7-year-olds say it over and over to annoy their mothers. Quite frankly I don't care if I come off ostentatious at any level when it concerns the usage of this word, I hate its disgusting nature, and there's a part of me that hates the parts of others who repeat its bacterial repulsiveness.

The sense of disgust I feel for that word is a different shade of color than my disgust for the way I look in my job uniforms. I believe that a key part of customer service is the removal of self, or rather the removal of the service, from humanity from one moment. You become a servant put behind a wall, sometimes with glass windows in front of it and a granite counter, and are expected to "wow" the customer. Use rhetorical tricks like "what would you like to drink with that?" rather than "would you like a drink with that?" to suave the customer into consuming more. When I look at myself wearing my boyish uniform—tucked in shirt and shorts, socks with shoes, and a baseball cap—I see someone pathetic, and potentially a person who would say the word "shitty". I don't look at myself as the talented writer, or the sophisticated thinker, or someone who feels things. I shut up almost instantly. It's ingrained in everybody, which is why I don't think I'm whistleblowing when I say that we're all pretty shitty to each other, or at least to one another when the other person is wearing a uniform and you're on the consumer side of the granite countertop.

I've always really really wanted a group of friends who wouldn't use that word a whole ton, who wouldn't make stupid meme jokes or talk politics or anything worthless. A group of people who would enjoy just contently watching Jack Johnson's A Brokedown Melody or Thicker than Water, or maybe My Dinner with Andre, or some bad film together. I just want to be happy, and find some nice people who don't say the word "shit." I feel bad about leaving Hailey cleaning the shop, and I don't want to get in the habit of living like how that feels.

I can't be alone thinking this, can I?

Note: I thought the word suave was a different word, but apparently it's only similar to my preconceived idea of the word. I decided to go ahead and use it the way I want to. 


Erdedy is waiting for a woman to bring him weed and his is paralyzed by different anxieties so he mostly sits in his apartment. He is compared to a beetle on the mantle in his room that has similar movements/states (17-27). Erdedy, along with other characters, is described as trapped/entombed/caged. Gregor was equally as trapped, both in his body and his room.

I hope my life isn't going to end up being some inane joke amazing novel beautifully choreographed and written with recurring themes and symbols intertwined and placed remarkably throughout my life. Oh wait.... yeah it's totally gonna be like that. To me, at least.

Conducting A Song Upon the Katzenklavier

Conducting A Song Upon the Katzenklavier

Rambling thoughts of a newly indoctrinated Pizza Boy

Rambling thoughts of a newly indoctrinated Pizza Boy