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If you could take away a day from the week, what day would it be?

I heard this question in a radio talk show a couple of nights ago. And I answered it in my head.

I cannot take away Monday. It's "Manic Monday." It's when one is either excited/hopeful in starting the week, and in some ways, a new life or highly frustrated for again starting yet another unremarkable seven days.

Wednesday, I cannot take away too. It has such character. It's the middle of the work and school week and Lisa's made a song with it, "Waiting for Wednesday." It's the day when you think of how you'll progress through the rest of the week, make it quite pretty, if not fantastic.

Thursday, Thursday is my favorite. It's the day before Friday. When Thursday comes, Friday becomes so near, meaning the weekend is so near. And just pronounce "thurs." Hear it. It's soft and smooth as rabbit's fur.

Friday? May be over-rated, but I, too, scream, T.G.I…

1.
"You want God to laugh? Tell him about your plans." --Amores Perros


2.
I just had a great Saturday with my brother. We went to Brittany Bay, ate burger for lunch, had coffee, then on the way home, while drizzling, I vomited on the street the liters of water I drank at the cafe.

At home, we watched, "Amores Perres," a film that reminded me of Sannrise--which reminded me that "hope is severed from expectation," as Ms. Michaels put it quite well.


3.
It's nebulous, how I'm feeling, I don't know the things I have, I don't know them, because I don't have a name for them.

To name is to limit, to capture, yes, in a way. But what if I give a wrong name, what if I assume? I'll just force the circle into the square. But then I agree man makes miracles and that "everything is in everything else," as Mr. Paterson put it quite well.

And I like the advice, not having to name it. To just stand at an approximation, though so worr…

1. I cannot endure how something must be given up for something.

2. How my human wishes are being disapproved.

3. I cannot purely give.

4. Love is killing me, and without it, it's killing me all the same
and more. The way he and his absence torment me.