I had an interesting few days, with the installation of a new toilet capping the week in porcelain. My brother is a better plumber than I am and volunteered, bless ‘im, to help this old man install the shiny new throne that Amazon plunked down in front of my garage without fanfare or a “howdy do.”
It didn’t kill me, and it didn’t make me stronger. It reminded me that I have a lot of work to do on the rowing machine if I expect to be able to get out of that chair at the nursing home by myself. (I’ve found that “Promentory” from Last of the Mohicans is great rowing music.)
My video project is beginning to grow fur from sitting in the dark so long. But progress is progress. I’m now learning about “royalty free” music and how every Dorcas in Dorsetshire wants to write a synth-pop-dance tune and force me to use it in videos. Listening to a whole library of catchy free “dance” music is nauseating when what I want is just a nice, “Leave it to Beaver” kind of tune that fills you up without weighing you down. A snappy little background tune that doesn’t scream “MODEL PLANES! WHAT A DWEEB! HIT THE DANCEFLOOR AND CAN I GET A HEY-OH FROM THE LADIES IN THE BACK?!?!?”
Seriously, does EVERY DAMN THING have to be about dancing to loud drums? I mean, I like the opening shot of Zulu (“Why do the woman carry those little spears?”) as much as anybody but one must draw a line somewhere.
I think it all boils down to the culture of “western” countries. We have trouble digesting the fact that the most money is made with the least physical effort. We like watching overpaid athletes because it triggers a Pavlovian “he/she earned it” response when the sweaty team staggers panting to the trophy table. We like to believe that “work” is a PHYSICAL thing. “Mental” work seems oddly out of whack. Eastern and Semitic peoples don’t seem to have this prejudice to overcome. On the other hand, an Irishman will never be able to convince his Irish life-partner to see his “mental struggle” as anything but a symptom of alcoholism.
But, somehow, the pale-skinned peoples have managed to puzzle out the construction of mighty works, the planning of our modern society, and the methods of our modern electronic world while dodging endless accusations that they aren’t “really” working because, as we all know, real work is a “man-killing” ordeal. To earn a few million with one’s noodle is freakish at best, and criminal at probably.
Just don’t let me catch you gazing out the window…
Which reminds me– Pete Hamill said that he divorced his first wife because she could not understand that he was working when he was lookin out the window.
Pete Hamill: June 24, 1935 – August 5, 2020