Work field trip to MOMA and lunch. I go back to last year when they fired T after a similar outing. It's bullshit.
Headache and feeling just cold and tired and crappy afterward. Totally spent. Couldn't keep up conversation.
Got a stupid ass pittance of a bonus. I complain even though I have a job that even gives a bonus, whatever. I probably, definitely, got the smallest bonus check out of my team, the whole company more than likely. The receptionist probably got a bigger bonus, the fuck. I know exactly where I stand. In my head.
Everything sucks and I hate everything.
There's a small octagonal room in the back of the fourth floor where they put up paintings by Agnes Martin. They were grids, muted colors. The soft even pencil lines across make me feel the simple comfort of an elementary school handwriting class. Her paintings have very light tints, in grids, peaceful. No garish slashes of sloppy lumpy streaks ripped across the canvas here. The night sea one was really great. She filled in the grid with blue except the thin lines in between which has gold in them. The natural uneven spacing of the blue fill leaves the gaps shimmering. It hits me. So good.