30 Days Hath February
A calendrically accurate, more lyrical alternative to the traditional '30 Days Hath September.'
30 days hath February
Minus two in most years, while April won't vary
Likewise June, September, and November
But add a day for months 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10, plus December
A calendrically accurate, more lyrical alternative to the traditional '30 Days Hath September.'
30 days hath February
Minus two in most years, while April won't vary
Likewise June, September, and November
But add a day for months 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 10, plus December
Thank god
it’s Friday?
What the blank? The seven “days” of the supposed “week” are pure contrivance. I refuse to thank anyone for this repeating time box that I’m expected to trap my own mind within.
There is no such thing as Friday! There is no such thing as a week!
Every freaking day in the universe is a different freaking day! Every day is unique and will never happen again. Every day deserves its own name.
My true being is capable of more than just covering the same artificial mental ground over and over throughout my life like a wretched zoo animal pacing back and forth smearing its snot on the impenetrable plexiglass.
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday are mental frauds. They do not exist.
The "week" doesn’t line up with the cycles of the moon. It doesn’t line up with the cycles of the sun. It doesn’t line up with any cosmic clock. It is completely arbitrary.
Which creep or creeps back in history invented the idea that we should all do stuff we don’t enjoy for five days to make someone else rich and do stuff we do enjoy for two days to keep us ourselves just satisfied enough not to commit suicide so we can go back to work again? What kind of evil mental oppression is that?
It makes me angry to live in such an arbitrarily regulated world and watch everyone around me accept the framework of the pattern of seven repeating "days" without question as if it were true.
Folks, I can’t put it anymore strongly: There is no such thing as a week! There is no such thing as Friday!
Thank today it’s a day!
What the blank? The seven “days” of the supposed “week” are pure contrivance. I refuse to thank anyone for this repeating time box that I’m expected to trap my own mind within.
There is no such thing as Friday! There is no such thing as a week!
Every freaking day in the universe is a different freaking day! Every day is unique and will never happen again. Every day deserves its own name.
My true being is capable of more than just covering the same artificial mental ground over and over throughout my life like a wretched zoo animal pacing back and forth smearing its snot on the impenetrable plexiglass.
Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday are mental frauds. They do not exist.
The "week" doesn’t line up with the cycles of the moon. It doesn’t line up with the cycles of the sun. It doesn’t line up with any cosmic clock. It is completely arbitrary.
Which creep or creeps back in history invented the idea that we should all do stuff we don’t enjoy for five days to make someone else rich and do stuff we do enjoy for two days to keep us ourselves just satisfied enough not to commit suicide so we can go back to work again? What kind of evil mental oppression is that?
It makes me angry to live in such an arbitrarily regulated world and watch everyone around me accept the framework of the pattern of seven repeating "days" without question as if it were true.
Folks, I can’t put it anymore strongly: There is no such thing as a week! There is no such thing as Friday!
Thank today it’s a day!
"I can't imagine the self control
required to eat just one chocolate
from the advent calendar"
I say as I pop the last one out on the second day
required to eat just one chocolate
from the advent calendar"
I say as I pop the last one out on the second day
What's
the
difference
between
me and
a calendar?
A calendar has dates
A calendar has dates
how
on earth
have
i only
just
discovered
Panic! At The Disco
?
Panic! At The Disco
?
there is simply nothing worse
than knowing how it ends.
~put another X on the calendar,
summer's on its deathbed~
Put another 'x' on the calendar, summer's on its death bed. There
is simply nothing worse than knowing how it ends.
