Working for the Weekend
The Mental Radio of Josh Urban
Breaking rocks in the hot sun….
A drop of sweat landed on the inside of my sunglasses as I hunched over the trench, laughably shallow.
I fought the law and the
SMASH with the pickaxe, a splinter of rock bouncing off the other side of the poor shades.
and the law won.
The Clash’s version of the classic country tune played on repeat in my head as I heave-ho’d at putting in underground gutter pipes at the new house. Then things took a grim turn in my head as a new song faded in.
You might not ever get rich…but it’s better than digging a ditch.
Rose Royce?! What are you doing here?
Even if you’re not working at the Car Wash, disco is inescapable. Isn’t the song stuck in your head now? People point the finger at Oppenheimer and Feynman for unleashing atomic ruin on us, but the disco producers get off easy.
Work, and work, my fingers to the bone.
It’s a dangerous world out there, compounding daily with a relentless torrent of new music.
“You might get your hand cut off on the job, Dan, but I woke up with Justin Bieber stuck in my head. That’s occupational hazard, buddy” I told the excavator after a gig.
“Think I’d rather have my hand cut off.”
And this was before I started digging ditches and had the disco float in. Rose Royce’s “Car Wash” refuses to go away, and lawd have mercy, all the great philosophers would point my finger back at me.
“Well son, you keep DJing it.”
My conscience must be a radio station, playing things back to haunt me as the sun beats down and the rocky ground laughs in my face.
That’s a hard idea to take. Guess I’ll have to shake it off.
Oh no.
Have a great weekend. I’m sure you’ve earned it in your own way.
Speaking of working for the weekend and raising eyebrows on jobsites, here’s an approximation of recent actions:
–Josh