There were times, back when I was a drinkin' man, that pretty much
every day was Monday, a rude, jangling intrusion into sweet peaceful nescience.
The necessity to drag oneself out of bed, day after grinding day... man, some days that was just so hard. And then to go to work on top of it, as well? For crying out loud, what do they
want out of a man?
But work gave me refuge from primal existential dilemmas, as well... a hidey hole where, as long as I kept my head down and worked toward getting the day over with and keeping from slipping behind, I could be free of nagging doubts about just how worthwhile my continuing existence was. Well, maybe not
free of them, perhaps, but I could at least defer them.
And at the end of a long day of work, there was always the bottle. Like a djinn whose work was done, I would coil back into that sweet, dark prison...
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Monday, April 03, 2006 Monday, February 13, 2006chain of mondays...a thousand mondays
that's just 19 years
put your head down
put yourself in gear
before you know it
the day is done
fall asleep
and there's another one
chain of mondayswrapped round my lifechain of mondays until the day I dieI'm good at what I do
but what I do is dumb
pushing things around
all day long
what's it all for
don't ask me
i'm just a well-worn gear
in the big machine
chain of mondays...don't take off my shackles
i don't want to be free
cause theres nowhere to go
and no one to be
been at the grindstone
for so damn long
there's nothing much left
except this song:
chain of mondays...(C)2006, TK Major