Infinite Monday

One day in the unforseeable future I will wake up on Monday morning with joy in my heart. With that I will know I have reached perfection. That will definitely be the litmus test.

Mondays just fuck with me, like god poking me with a stick.

"Get up, you blog-writing movie-watching book-reading whore. Get out of the damn bed and go to work. And appreciate it that you even have a job you ungrateful ethically-damaged lazy delusional mess. You think I care that you only got four hours of sleep? Wake up! (poke) Who in hell do you think you are? (poke) Special? I'll tell you who you are you stupid ugly socially-challenged bitch! WAY far from perfect. That's right. So get used to your lonely little life with your insecure little thoughts and your pathetic little dreams, because your life is not gonna change. You hear me? YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!"

I imagine god sounding a bit mobster-ish here, like Joe Peschi in Goodfellas.

Then I (wincing) crawl out of bed and try my best to put on a good face for god. Make the most of it. Tally ho! (I don't even know what that means.)

In the car (god in the passenger seat) I listen to Sun Kil Moon's Ghosts of the Great Highway, track 2 and 4 over and over and over and over until I realize god is really getting irritated and I have reached total melancholy saturation. I hear Mark Kozelek's voice break plaintively and am startled to realize I feel happy. Glad that I have a warm car (hell, I could live in this damn thing if I needed to) and glad that there are Mark Kozeleks in the world creating beautiful songs.

I walk through the dark parking lot toward the school and say "shit" under my breath one less time than last Monday.