So I believe I may have to get myself a j . . ., a j . . ., a job, there, I said it. I'm soul tired, poverty doesn't enhance my complexion, a new coat of green Is calling my name.
I'll go through the classified ads, see what sort of jobs are going, what I might be qualified to do, what forty four years on this planet has equipped me for. I'll employ a process of elimination, write off the jobs that require a recognised piece of paper, the jobs that would require normal eyesight, the ones where I'd be working under fluorescent light because my eyes give me massive headaches under those lights, the jobs that require a driver's license, time spent at a computer, and last of all the jobs that require scamming for a cut of charity dollars. I'm sure that will leave plenty of options.
I'll shave, get a haircut, take my earrings out, don my shabby suit and attend interviews with managers half my age, try to explain to them what I've been doing for the last twenty seven years since I left school. A change of image is due anyway.
I'll change the habit of a lifetime, rise with the sunrise, everyone else does it, how hard can it be? I'll laugh at the jokes my boss makes, wear a uniform, follow the script. If I ever waver from my course I will think of pay day, being financially secure will heal any wounds.
Who am I fooling? It ain't gonna' happen.
Instead I will continue writing this blog in the hope it will one day find a suitable sponsor. I will go in search of a working band that satisfies me musically. I will seek work as a freelance writer. I know this is what I'll do. It's what I do.
If everyone else can hold down a day job why can't I? Am I a pretentious idiot with a ludicrous sense of entitlement? Quite possibly. As Popeye said, I yam what I yams. A day job just looks like the fire to me, at least while I'm in the frying pan I might become something delicious. Turn me over, I'm nearly done.
A job. Now the pressure is off I can say it. I work enough hours each week, I just need to convert those hours into some cash. Being poor doesn't suit me but the way out is not a job, the way out is in working harder at being myself and doing what I do.