Monday, January 23, 2006
Disorder in the House
by jima
Friday afternoon. A really long, really bad week. I’m finally on the way home, standing in a packed car of commuters on the MRT.
Through my headphones comes a rockabilly rave-up. Warren Zevon, on his final album. A song that is simultaneously sad and funny. A cry of despair delivered with a sly wink. I turn it up.
I'm exhausted. I've been on the road for one project, while trying to keep the other, problem-prone project, from spinning into the gutter and missing the pins completely. Add to that an interminable string of teleconferences interrupted only by several awkward hours trying to clean up after some co-worker misbehavior, and I've had enough.
I ride up the escalator into the palpable heat of the city and start the short walk home. Warren's gravelly voice warns of impending doom, the penalties of sloth, the wide-spread effects of entropy, and zombies. Gotta watch those zombies.
Zombified Singaporeans stream by, and I, too, am in my own world. My feet follow the rhythm and propel me toward home. In a trance, I wait to cross the road as the bridge of the song kicks in.
Minutes later, I collapse on our sofa, and Venitha comes to rub my back and comfort me. This is neither the "davenport of despair" nor the "couch of pain", but I'm grateful to Mr. Zevon for that little bit of energy that saw me home today.
jima
Disorder in the house
The tub runneth over
Plaster's falling down in pieces by the couch of pain
Through my headphones comes a rockabilly rave-up. Warren Zevon, on his final album. A song that is simultaneously sad and funny. A cry of despair delivered with a sly wink. I turn it up.
Disorder in the house
It's a fate worse than fame
Even the Lhasa Apso seems to be ashamed
I'm exhausted. I've been on the road for one project, while trying to keep the other, problem-prone project, from spinning into the gutter and missing the pins completely. Add to that an interminable string of teleconferences interrupted only by several awkward hours trying to clean up after some co-worker misbehavior, and I've had enough.
Disorder in the house
There's a flaw in the system
And the fly in the ointment's gonna bring the whole thing down
I ride up the escalator into the palpable heat of the city and start the short walk home. Warren's gravelly voice warns of impending doom, the penalties of sloth, the wide-spread effects of entropy, and zombies. Gotta watch those zombies.
I just got my paycheck
I'm gonna paint the whole town grey
Zombified Singaporeans stream by, and I, too, am in my own world. My feet follow the rhythm and propel me toward home. In a trance, I wait to cross the road as the bridge of the song kicks in.
Disorder in the house
All bets are off
I'm sprawled across the davenport of despair
Minutes later, I collapse on our sofa, and Venitha comes to rub my back and comfort me. This is neither the "davenport of despair" nor the "couch of pain", but I'm grateful to Mr. Zevon for that little bit of energy that saw me home today.
jima
