{"id":297,"date":"2008-06-14T03:25:48","date_gmt":"2008-06-14T03:25:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/bologs\/vng\/werkin\/"},"modified":"2008-06-14T03:25:48","modified_gmt":"2008-06-14T03:25:48","slug":"werkin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/werkin\/","title":{"rendered":"Werkin"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Last night my friend Kevin played a gig in South Philly supporting <a href=\"http:\/\/en.wikipedia.org\/wiki\/Christian_Death\">Christian Death.<\/a> As Kevin is my best, and arguably my only, friend on this side of the pond, I was anxious to see him play. However, being in my late 30s and being a bit porky, and needing to use public transport, and it being over 85F, and the venue being in a scary part of town with no public transport, and me being knackered, and because I had to get up early the next day to get into work on the bus because Walter&#8217;s aircon is still not fixed, I ended up crying off just as my bus crawled into the Wissahickon Transport Centre. The traffic was as bollocksome as it could have been and by the time I&#8217;d sweated into South Philly it would have been Friday.<br \/>\nFortunately, as I found out today, the gig turned out to be sub-par and so it&#8217;s fortunate that I opted to stay at home with the flock instead. The only worry is that we&#8217;ve been doing a lot of that recently: staying at home. These days I prefer it&#8230;how sad.<br \/>\nThe hugely inconvenient commute to work, which I share with a bunch of other bus regulars, amazes me more than ever. Why are we doing this ? Spending 3 hours a day of our lives traveling to and from somewhere we dislike, in order to spend 8 hours doing something we&#8217;d rather not be doing. In London this depressed the hell out of me, but for some reason that is not understood, I&#8217;m currently ok with it. Perhaps it&#8217;s a combination of the joy of uninterrupted reading time, aircon, a challenging job, and effective anti-depressants that&#8217;s doing it. If I should lose one of those benefits then it might be time to resort to drastic measures. But, at this moment, the thought of going in to work on Monday <i>isn&#8217;t<\/i> filling me with dread and annoyance&#8230;even though it should be! Why do we do this ? Anyone who thinks that it&#8217;s because a day job is a necessary evil, or that work makes you a real person, is a tragic fool. There&#8217;s no dignity in working too hard, it&#8217;s just pathetic. If you do work too hard you will never be <i>wealthy<\/i> in any sense of the word. Some people find that work gives their lives structure and a purpose; these days I pity them. A few years ago I would have concurred and tried to justify working my weekends out for no extra pay or credit. Now I just see it as blinkered ignorance.<br \/>\nSkive for fucks sake, skive! Spend some time with people you like! What&#8217;s wrong with wanting to spend the majority of your waking time doing something you enjoy rather than something that you do because you &#8220;have&#8221; to.<\/p>\n<p>What am I talking about&#8230;<\/p>\n<p>Right &#8211; the weekend is ahead and therefore some pleasure:<\/p>\n<ul>\n<li>Not working<\/li>\n<li>Speaking to my family on the Internets<\/li>\n<li>Reading more of my books<\/li>\n<li>A barbecue<\/li>\n<li>A curry<\/li>\n<li>Playing with my new Technics 1200 (mk2) that a <i>very<\/i> generous workmate gave me<\/li>\n<li>Listening to some nice sounds<\/li>\n<li>Sitting in the sahn with nothing better to do<\/li>\n<li>Reviving my old iBook<\/li>\n<li>Enjoying my flock<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p>Nighty night!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Last night my friend Kevin played a gig in South Philly supporting Christian Death. As Kevin is my best, and arguably my only, friend on this side of the pond, I was anxious to see him play. However, being in my late 30s and being a bit porky, and needing to use public transport, and [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-297","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/297","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=297"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/297\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=297"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=297"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fatsquirrel.org\/oldfartsalmanac\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=297"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}