I f*ing hate the clock that sits on my wall constantly remindering me that every second is a countdown to the end of life. A wicked reminder that my life has an expiration date. Like the parent who failed in life takes out his frustrations on his child it tick tocks accusingly on the wall demanding some sort of productivity on my part while it hangs lazily, bitch. And yet I am so addicted to it that when it dies I am quick to add batteries up its ass, afraid that I will not know what time it is.
Why would anyone create such an object of utter frustration? Why would humanity take a concept so arbitrary like time and make it the focal point of life? Time which brings with it the idea of mental and physical limitations, the more of it you accumulate the less use you are. Making youth, our period of maximum ego and minimum experience, the most desirable phase of life. Really? The age of throwing up in a public restroom while your equally drunk friend holds your hair can’t be the best years. Yet older women are reaching for it with plastic surgery and men with girls still in training diapers. All because of a f*ing clock.
I vote we remove all the clocks around the world, erase the very concept of time and everything that comes with it, that includes you 2012. Thanks Mayans. Thank you very f*ing much. Next time you send Chipcoatl to grab some rock for the calendar, please tell Chip to get extra coz you might have to leave a memo or instruction manual.
