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Tuesday night... and I am devoid of facts. Atleast the date has changed. It's busy enough at work, but the drive is nonexistent. Corporate Sob-Story Time tomorrow, anyway... quarterly meeting where they'll tell us how awful the prospects are for meeting the "Plan." For me, here's no better sedative than bullshit financial graphs. Bottomline: there will be no more hiring. Everyone will absorb the extra workload. No raises. Just Be Glad You Have A Job. The suits play with the money, the uniforms pay. Hell, I'm not even fantasizing about the weekend, though DJing looms large. This time around, I've got to be more in the groove with matching beats... so some homework would serve the vibe well. I'm sure that'll be jumpstarted after flexing on the radio on Friday. And you never know how things will be until the first thumps come out of the soundsystem... and what the crowd looks like. Blank slate. Tabula Rasa. Strange little scenario, when I first came in today. A little blond, who is usually into her own unrecognizable thing, stopped by to talk about... reggae. Absolutely the last thing I ever expected to pass from her lips... she being the type somewhat affected by herself, always in the "I-Me-Mine" mode. Perfect house, perfect husband, perfect life... now separated, moving out, insecure. Well, that's usually when a message as heavy and uncompromising as reggae takes root to begin with. Elemental answers to frivilous personal problems. Speaking for myself. Yeah, I liked the music enough when Bob Marley was still alive. It didn't really kick me in the head until a whirlwind relationship crashed-and-burned (purely sexual, looking back now), I was sleeping in the back of a station wagon (with no where else to go) and broke beyond words. Dealing with my brother's blindness (and the rest of the family's inability to cope), a torrid affair with a friend's wife. Then uprooted myself to northern VA to a new job (this one), camped out in a motel (mentioned previously)...and then it dawned on me. When I needed to see the forest for the trees. I suppose the lesson here is to not forget how we got on this path, to begin with. Epiphany certainly cuts the bullshit. |
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