Lets face it Time is a cunt. As an abstract construct installed by God or some other wanker to try and measure our pitiful inconsequential existence from point A "Birth" to point Z "Death" it has become increasingly obvious that Time is indeed a complete fucker.
My absence from this very site is accredited to the slippery little piss-weasel as my current life is being so utterly derailed by it's devious tomfuckery that it feels like I'm trapped inside Christopher Nolan's mindrape of a film “Memento” or I'm watching his film “Inception” without the part where they vaguely explain what the hell is going on as I slip and slide in a dreamlike state between unrelated consciousness with places and faces familiar yet unfamiliar blending and blurring into one continuous stream of events.
Maybe I should stop putting mescaline on my cornflakes but even on the days I don't I have come to a definite conclusion that Old Man Time is fucking with us all and laughing as he watches us helplessly trying to save, spend, chase or control it to no avail.
If you're reading this at work you're probably already experiencing the long drawn out hours it makes you spend looking at its various faces of display as the seconds chime away like hours and the hours seem to fall as languidly as the flipping date on an antique clock, with every tick and tock slamming down like a bookcase falling on the floor of a empty sports hall.
When that snoozefest ends, you are then made to wait for a bus or train that either takes forever to turn up or you have to run with all your work paraphernalia looking like a charity runner who's chose to do the marathon dressed as a comedy ostrich. When was the last time you turned up and it was simply there as you casually strolled on or pulled up just as you got to the stop?
Fucking never because Time is being a Prick.
However, when you get home, the tempo inexplicably speeds up as 5.30pm becomes 6.30pm before you even hang up your coat. You sit down briefly and let out a deflating sigh and contemplate making a cup of tea but as you slouchily drag your tired carcass off the sofa and make your way to the kitchen you pass a clock that now reads 8.30pm!
All of these glances at the smirking digital metronome amaze and befuddle you but yet simply get passed off with a simple “what the fuck!” as investigation into such matters would only prove more consuming of your ever dwindling evening.
The weekends too take an eternity to arrive but seem to slip through your fingers like grains of sand pouring from an hourglass that mocks your fevered tightening grip as you fumble to capture any left as it inevitably falls out of reach.
You barely take a sip of that first Friday pint and before you know it , it's not “Time” being called at the bar but the chime of the swinging pendulum's master as it strikes midnight on Sunday and you begrudgingly make your ascent to bed. I've even noticed the slowing of Sunday's later hours as if it was getting ready for the seemingly 72 hour day of Mon and the trudging week that ensues.
Left unchallenged this abuse of continuance will probably result with us eventually dying straight after we're born with our only vague memory being one of making a cheese and pickle sandwich at some random point in time which on devouring was all rather disappointing.
The only hope is that Dr Emmett Brown and his Flux Capacitor can make its move from celluloid to real life and that finally we could start to give Time its due payback and kick it right in it's arse by turning every weekend into a summer long festival of joy and continually setting the working week to fast forward!
Until then my fellow slaves, we shall have to keep up the good fight and chase Time as if it were a speedy child in a playground, running in front of you and turning to taunt your feeble efforts of catch up in order to make it trip on its own arrogance and fall into a massive pile of well deserved shit!
Then we can all stand around it and collectively chant “Ha Ha! Fuck You Time!! look at you now you shitty little grazed weeping cuntrag!” and we shall all laugh...
We shall all laugh for as long as we fucking well like.
