Here I sit with time off work while outside machinery mashes up the pavement (sidewalk) relentlessly reminding me there’s better things to do than sit inside during my time off work. Almost as I block the drone out, making space in my small mind for thoughts to congregate, a man – one of those managing the mashing machinery outside – hollers to his colleague, in that guttural voice saved for men who work outside, and my thoughts are scattered once more.
Is it that during days like these, where I’ve time to enjoy the town, I should indeed get around and not hanker down in my own little way? Is it that coincidence is the real ruler of our wastrel lives?
Here, as the growing gloom of grey October insists on darkening my solitude; as the clamour of men and metal pounds my ears, claustrophobically clashing nothingness about me, here I sit, mumbling words that leak precisely onto the Internet. I feel the drills and bits ebb away my minds few thoughts and am left, numbly, un-sunnily, darkly, reflecting on the affects of public will over our masters.
I’m sure the floor these men outside are relaying was flawless… I’ve walked it everyday and back, and yet somehow, within this catastrophe of austerity, my council finds enough cash to de-quiet my one day off from work.
As many a thinker before – I slowly rise, put the kettle to work, and close the window… As I do so silence falls through panes outside again once more.