Pneumatic Drill

The Jam had a song called “That’s Entertainment” in which Paul Weller strums an acoustic guitar and runs through a list of urban indignities that constitute what, in 1980 or so, was contemporary “entertainment.”  One of the noises was a “pneumatic drill and ripped up concrete.”  This is on my mind here, sitting in suburban Beijing, looking out into my small patch of backyard, feeling the vibration of a pneumatic drill.  My thoughts are with Paul. 

I don’t suppose anyone likes a pneumatic drill.  The sound is torture and it cuts through any other music, closed window, drapery defense one might employ, as it isn’t merely a sound.  It’s a physical vibration that shakes your chest and your spine beyond your eardrums.  The operator of the drill can’t be having much fun either.  I’m sure he heads home sore and tired.  He squeezes it on and off, on and off and had been doing so for hours now.  My loud bee bop can’t hope to ward it off. 

My building abuts the wall that separates my compound from the next set of villas.  I can’t see anyone or certainly complain about anything.   And as I consider things I note that for well over ten years neighboring construction has been the norm.  When I lived in Pok Fu Lam in Hong Kong, they rebuilt the apartment upstairs.  It was horrible.  The last two places I lived in Beijing the neighboring buildings were completely redone.  These projects took were always interminably long.  When we moved in here, the house across the street was a construction site with dozens of workers who stopped what they were doing each time I exited or entered my home and said spoke about me loudly, as if I understood nothing.  Now it’s the neighbors to rear.

Construction suggests a growing economy and people employed and I well know it’s the price one pays for living in a place that isn’t dormant, where there is activity that keeps me and as well as everyone else working on something.  But drills whether at the dentist or in your backyard are tough to ignore.  There’s nothing entertaining about them. 

Drill man’s been quiet for the last five minutes.  I note the absence of vibration in my chest.  I'm unclenching my teeth.  There is the whine of a buzz saw but that sounds almost like peace and quiet in comparison.