The Non-Weekend Blues.
The comfort of wearing our pj's after 8:30am dies down sometime between getting canned from our jobs and running out of Dexter reruns. And while our gnawing alarm clocks persistently arouse us into our daily routines for which we feel a mixture of animosity and gratitude, it is only after the 1960srock/NPRupdates/incessant-beeping-comparable-to-chalkboardsandnails ceases to bring forth this excitement do we realize the necessity of paychecks and early morning commutes to keep our self-confidence and heart rate from plummeting into a pit of depression. Enjoy!
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I often see men on McDonald Avenue near Green Wood Cemetary, waiting for some bossman to collect day labor. Travelling around the city, you can see young boys (usually boys) hanging out, dazed with boredom, waiting for something to happen. As they should. Young, energetic and unemployed. I have often wondered how they do it,day after day,waiting for something that will not happen.
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