Clockwise in Book Title.
- Feb. 12, 2016, 12:53 a.m.
- |
- Public
It’s 10:40pm and I’m becoming increasingly aware of the time passing on a sunrise to sunset scale. Try and sort that nonsense out.
I don’t give a shit about time. I’ve rejected the value and function of the whole concept. That decision is evidenced by my anti-social disregard for expectations or boundaries related to punctuality. I consistently arrive late by some measurement I’ve associated with necessary indulgence- about a sandwich’s worth or a familiar song’s length. I’m always another bong rip or a second orgasm or an unfinished sentence late. My workplace exhibits a begrudging acceptance of my counter-timeclock attitude. Friends and relatives, however, find fault with tardy guests and take offense at an early arrival.
It is probably rude to disassociate from the clockface in our fossil fuel’d society. It’s getting late with urgency. Even doomsday wears a timepiece. Lifestyles betray a paranoid awareness that every moment could be your last one. I’m not second guessing the present. I invite linear chaos. A clear conscience is my best joke- have you heard the punchline? It’s a running gag. The short hand chases the long hand. This is the bit that never ends.
How long have I been typing this?
Last updated February 12, 2016
Deleted user ⋅ February 12, 2016
I feel like you about time. Months, years? They all fall under "the past" and what I'd really love is total freedom to create or get together spontaneously with those I enjoy. Still, the "pleaser" I was trained to be sets many alarms and creates multitudes of lists. ;) I guess people are worth it.