No More Saturdays and Sundays
What do you think about Saturdays and Sundays? I mourn for the dead days.
|In the picture: +Boney Haorokcham|
A Saturday or a Sunday, it is only as good as any of the weekdays or is equally worst for that matter. The silver lining is in the consolation to get drunk on Saturday nights, without worrying about the hangover whether we would suffer or not the Sunday mornings. See there is a condition again, because we have to measure the drinking glass on Sundays. It is totally another matter whether we really measure our pegs with a tubing.
Possibly, it only matters how we live, regardless of the day. On Sundays, go to exciting places, meet some people; on weekdays, work smart at the offices; and on Fridays and Saturdays, do something good like creating a plectrum from a carom striker. How I wish we could simplify life like this! Everything becomes null, however, when there is no essence in living a life. An uncomfortable blank space lingers in the back of the mind. Toiling to earn a livelihood is no different than building castles in the air. It is painful, like people have tied a belt around your head and they are making it tighter every time we try to move a bit.
Optimists have always been uninspiring in these matters. They would get up seeing it is their responsibility, if they ever fall down despite it is not their fault. Getting up is a way of their lifestyle. Yet, I am afraid they would add very little to the meaning of our existence, because as mentioned, they are very uninspiring. Even the gods have become so timid. Their followers make worse, seeing nothing beyond a painted figure or a framed photo in places they would go for worshiping and making demands. If only there was some meaning in different living conditions and religions, Saturdays and Sundays would have remain unchanged all along, comforting millions and millions of modern day slaves.
There is only one way to give life back to a weekend. Know what the gods have in their mind when they created the universe. Then, we might know why the stars are hanging in eternal darkness. We might know where we stand in the grand scheme of things. We might know what we would need to do on Saturdays and Sundays. We might as well know why I am blabbering and driveling here. Otherwise, I am completely helpless here. The misery is lying all around in empty DSP Black, Old Monk, Budweiser and Magic Moments bottles.