There was this period of time when I had a job, one of those jobs that required me to get up at a certain time and be somewhere. Early, no less. It’s weird to think back on those days, when the clock was such a part of my morning life. Alas. With freedom comes a cost. Let’s say the cost is tension. Instead of a check every-other-week, they come into my checking account in less-certain intervals. Makes me tense.

For conversation, let’s say I happen to catch a little bit of something jarring, like Suze Orman ranting on our local PBS station. It’s pledge drive and she’s raving – in that particular Suze Orman way of hers – that if I’m not banking some serious money TODAY, that my aged years are going to be sent in gutter, where I’ll be picking up pennies and cigarettes. A human buzzkill, that Suze Orman.

Well, I was watching Suze Orman at some point in December and decided that all my DJ monies for 2009 would be put in a savings account. So every every time I drop a needle on The Police, or slip in a Silversun Pickups disc, I’m not just playing music for an inattentive audience of half-drunk monkeys. Instead, I’m studiously constructing a personal, financial savings net. That is thinking, people.

Please support my efforts to be a less-broke elderly person TODAY, by visiting The Wedge, anytime after 9:30 p.m.. I’ll be in the DJ booth this evening, mixing up an appropriately-aggro set for the club’s interesting mix of punks, bikers, bicyclists, gadabouts and louts. It’ll be fun, I imagine. Including at pay time, when I pocket my lucre, with an eye towards the future and a lung-fulla nic. Join me.