Monday. The dastardly day. Fie! It rhymes already. Triple Y! Oh my gawdy! What a bawdy day indeedy! Blueberry waffles I want simply cause tis monday and monday goes very well with blue. It's a cliche and it might as well hang with something utterly yummy in sick hopes of subduing its manic sting. Yes, I'm taking off popular terms associated with the dread day - blue, manic. Tsk Tsk.
Monday is precisely 30 hours along. It eats into my last 6 on Sunday. Propped like a cubist creation on orange cushions sipping languidly on mom's tea, spliced in neat lines of dull gold, a typical sunday sun, and cream blind's narrow shadows, I feel the anxiety getting unzipped and grate over each interlocking groove. Wallowing on what's to come, devising ways of making it to alternate world, actually a fisherman or a dolphin trainer will do. Or octopus catching in Grecian Urns by the seas of Tunisia will do too.
Loathsome morn I tell you. Why awake. Why can't it slip in unnoticed during the bustling hours when it doesn't matter what day or time it is but what's on hand is all that counts. Why the faff can't it dawn monday when I'm busy squabbling with an auto fellow, or busy rummaging through a book store, flipping channels on worldspace, while going ouzo ouzo with N, or when busy doodling!
Lilly livered monday! I dare you to take me at day time! Ha! Parasite prey on sunday. Out from 'neath buttercup yellow underskirts! Milksop! Monday you!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
milksop mondays, eh...true, true
di you get better every day. wish could say the same abt me :-(
di, i love this post! I love it! Its just too psychedelic for words! (This is Nayana, btw, not some random anonymous freak)
Post a Comment