Category Archives: prose-dialog

by

When that happens?

A ginger cat called Flash slinks through my garden regularly ignoring me as if I am vapour.
It’s four in the morning and I sit at my desk and thinks.
The streetlamp across the road is in a forty-five second on/off cycle.
Suddenly, poof, I have found an answer.

The answer is the SUN.

However, all the other questions I have, sadly, remain stubbornly unanswered. Two things generally happen to me: Either I am flooded with opinions or drowned in silence.
Instead, I really want to be surrounded by clarity and then engage with resolve.
I think that if I separate myself into an infinite number of parts it should be easier to become part of the whole, go with the flow and emerge with the answers.
To do that I cease thinking. Now I am not. The ‘I’ becomes an ‘It’ without an ego attached or a particular outcome expected.
I realise quickly that if this was the way it should be I would be a brainless grain of sand on a beach or a rock. After all, I am only one in a few billion not a googol gazillion. I’m special. Although…from a uni/multiversal point of view I’m so small making out I’m such a big deal, and in competition to the dumb universe, that my brain blows a fuse every time I try comprehending just a bit of this magnitude.

I start thinking again and I decide to ignore stuff like the Brexit.
I always wanted to live on an island and I trusted the wisdom of age to make visionary decisions and not create a dystopia. I just revised that.
Some things are so stupid they stick out like a grumbly square wheel with a puncture.
Democracy: a 49% – 51% guillotine; a really worn out flat tire and no wizzkid, political scientist or other boff rewriting that dusty, outdated bible. Ouch!

I still want to live on an island, but not that one.

I wonder what the sun thinks every day?
Just warm them up and give them life, they’ll come right some time.
Clearly, when you come from a sunny (dis)position, you can make better decisions. You gotta blame it on the weather. It would drive anyone bonkers and vote ‘Exit.’
And, in hindsight, to decide matters of such profound importance and far-reaching consequences during or after a full moon, when the sun is past the solstice and in pouring rain, shows a disconnectedness and ignorance, dare I say arrogance, towards all of nature’s powerful forces.

Chuckle.

Now what? Another illusion? More reality?
Nothing, clueless, lost?
Hop on board.

by

Longshadow serenade

Long shadow

Longshadow

You’re never alone. Not in the winter season. There’s always a shadow around.
Sunrise is two hours later and sunset is two hours earlier. It doesn’t sound like much but it’s four hours less sunshine a day or four hours more no-sunshine. Whichever way you prefer.

Far more obvious to me though is the path of the sun through the sky, and you can call me a liar, but I’m not far off when I say that it sets in the north and not in the west.
It rises dead-on in the east, shines into my kitchen, skips the centre of the zenith above entirely, and heads straight for the north. In that process the shadows get no break, being stretched to the limit from dawn to dusk, and then they work overtime deep into the night because the lights are switched on early.

For me, there is something incredibly magical about winter here in South Africa. I mean hey, you can run around barefoot, in shorts and t-shirt most of the time and get a tan and hardly work up a sweat. You can make a lunch time braai and relax because the next thunderstorm is still three months away. And no, a braai is not a barbeque! That is some American grill-thingy using gas, burgers, and sausages. We use wood from our gardens to make a fire and then braai on the coals and the carnivores here eat real meat like beef and not that refined supermarket mash of dubious origin.

It’s the best time of year to see the animals in the bush because the grass has stopped growing and the foliage thins out and everyone enjoys the sunshine.
It’s the safari season.

Far away

Far away

Dormant 4×4 vehicles of all shapes, sizes and descriptions rumble into action, get all packed up and disappear for weeks into the African yonder, somewhere far out. In distant places we sit around campfires sipping Shiraz and Famous Grouse while listening to lions roar, hyenas laugh, elephant trumpet, hippo’s snort, leopards bark and baboon’s wa-hu.
Shiraz and Famous Grouse

Shiraz and Famous Grouse

Idol of any cat

Idol of any cat

We heard him roar all night and finally tracked him down early in the morning. He had killed a baby elephant at night.

The ancient dust of Africa is like an aphrodisiac to the soul and winter is the druggiest time. The mornings might touch freezing and early afternoons can reach +30C (+86F). Such are the extremes that await and bewitch the courageous adventurer.

Another log on the smoldering coals, an old kettle boiling the coffee and puffing away, woodsmoke, and coffee smell, you’ve come to the right address.

Old kettle, fresh coffee

Old kettle, fresh coffee

Unbelievably so the Lion’s Tail or Wild Dagga as it is also called here, Dagga being the local name for Marijuana, is a huge attraction for the most magnificent, colorful Sunbirds.

Amethyst-sunbird

Amethyst-sunbird

Greater-Double-collared-Sunbird

Greater-Double-collared-Sunbird

Obviously, the flowers are intoxicating because the Sunbirds will visit every day and don’t mind that I sit a mere two meters away and watch and wonder if there is more than just a sugar attraction. But the Wild Dagga has very little if any THC and therefore is legal in most countries.
Leonotis leonurus

Sunbird’s heaven, Leonotis leonurus

Winter in these parts of Africa is just summer in another way. It is a Longshadow serenade. Even some of the roses bloom and bees buzz around. While some deciduous trees leaf and the grass might go brown in patches from the morning frost, the sky is a bright, light blue and the clear nights bring infinity onto my doorstep. Did I hear paradise? At least until the next cold front.

South Africa what a beautiful home!

Amethyst-sunbird http://www.wildlife-pictures-online.com
Greater Double-collared Sunbird http://www.theflacks.co.za

by

the ‘waiting’ in between

By that I mean the time ‘in between’ that it takes before I get what I want.
What if that waiting is actually just in my mind?
From the moment I want something until I have it, the clock ticks. But, should I really be a waiting?

You see I have this thing about time. It’s a dimension humans have created to dissect the present and in the process forgetting the whole.
Time is an industry that thrives on measurement and disruption. Time is fashion and villain. It’s impersonal and a pain, and it’s relative. Of course time is also a foundation block of my current reality.

Anyway, I like to simplify stuff. Therefore I like to remove one component from my universe: time.
No other living creature lives by a tik-tok. Makes you think, doesn’t it?
From very young I have heard it said: “This (or that) will take a long time?”
I’m not a physicist but after many decades of living by the rules of time I still have a problem being able to tell (the) time.
So to hell with time. Actually forget about speed and distance too. Drop the human constructs and just live without having to define everything for a moment.

I can see space clearly. It’s the transparent nothingness between objects. Some refer to it as the void, but this nothing is something.
Space is everywhere; it’s also between where we are and what we want. If we can make that space ‘work’ for us instead of seeing it as a hurdle multiplied by time, then we are onto a good thing.
In my book Austrafica I went into some detail what I perceive this nothingness, which I called ‘Invisibles,’ to be. Here is what I thought up.

Invisibles are not spiritual, religious, metaphysical or ghosty stuff. They are not a ‘them,’ ‘they’ or ‘it’ either. There are also so many Invisibles that if we would count them we would be countlessly counting.
Invisibles are never-ever visible to us, at all. If we can imagine them existing then we should visualize them as being entirely different to anything we know, which might be inherently difficult for various reasons, because they aren’t measureable in any way. They are not even noticeable to us and the closest thing is ‘no-thing,’ but even that means the opposite, the negation of a thing, which they definitely aren’t. Transparent dust maybe gives an idea, but don’t dwell on it because Invisibles are really indefinable. One can say that they are all the invisible stuff in-between all the visible stuff. They are not of matter and as soon as we think of them being something they disappear, and when they disappear chaos appears and the ‘waiting’ is back. So what are they? Because to the fleeting observer and thinker they aren’t, but we are trying to say they are, the best description is ‘Invisibles.’ You could imagine them as being connectors. The less definition we give them the more they exist, and the more we accept them, – kind of like allowing, – the more our life will run smooth.
Odd! I know.
By acknowledging ‘them’ we are at least not in ignorance or in denial of them and that is the important crux. Although we can never see them they are everywhere even where we think they aren’t. Because of that they have been given the name of ‘fillers,’ and the attribute of ‘smoothers.’ Without them there would really be nothing or in other words everything would be so dense that nothing could exist except maybe matter of the densest kind and chaos of course. Some might say chaos is the natural state, well, maybe here we are about to redefine its meaning. Regardless and nevertheless Invisibles are so important and yet so invisible that we tend to forget they exist. That is a problem we should seek to remedy.

The moment we acknowledge that the space ‘in between’ is filled with Invisibles, chaos ceases and smoothness takes over. Once there is smoothness all the invisible parts around us connect right to the end point of that which we want/think about and, that could be in another room, country, galaxy or universe. The unconnected pictures suddenly flow into one big ‘present’ for us.
So next time you stare at nothing acknowledge the Invisibles and imagine how it connects you smoothly to that which you want, without, aah, a second of waiting.

Acknowledging the Invisibles is the only practice required, others talk about subatomic sized energy particles and of consciousness and being aware.

“There is almost a sensual longing for communion with others who have a large vision. The immense fulfillment of the friendship between those engaged in furthering the evolution of consciousness has a quality impossible to describe.”
― Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

by

get back inside

It’s the kind of words you could hear someone yell from the porch on a rainy day.
It could be the name of a bistro.
It’s a vociferous frustration when you opened something up you should not have touched.
It implies that whatever it is, whoever it is, it or they came from the inside.
Get back means to return, to the inside in this case.

Right now however, ‘it’ must be on the outside, because why else would I be reprimanded to get back inside?
The ‘it’ is actually a facet of me.

I was sitting inside the lounge on a chair. But I heard it clearly said, “get back inside.”
The time was just after 5am. Where is inside at that time of the morning? Cosy-snugly bed, no?

Admittedly the meditation was a bit, ‘all over the place.’

In my supposed mode of passive observation I had to rope-in my freely wandering thoughts time and again.
If it would have been a dream it would be called lucid dreaming, because you know what you are doing and you maintain some form of control.
I clearly was two things at once: observer and practitioner, and, I have on occasion caught myself being even more than two things at once.

During writing of my first book I have occasionally practiced spawning numerous thought streams at once and then sitting back to observe: i.e. traveling on the Orient express, flying an aircraft, having dinner and conversation and leaning a fast motorbike through the curves in Mpumalanga with Beethoven’s 6th (Pastorale) in the background.
Indeed I thought I was successful at it. I just worked up a voracious appetite for chocolate afterwards.

Multi-tasking, multi-processing, time-slicing, – fascinating ideas, computer jargon I know, but if a robot can do it surely I can too. Brilliant creation our brain is!
In short most of us will concur that I have probably never reached my destination on the Orient express, crashed the aircraft, was absent minded at dinner and an irresponsible danger on the motorbike. Yes you are right. I never completed any one of them except the Symphony, and why should I? There were another thousand other things to do and I was only interested in the highlights.
Such is the power of our beautiful mind.

Well, this morning an inner voice decided it was appropriate to remind me to ‘get back inside.’
Inside is where I truly am. The outside is a distraction and probably an illusion, – or all is an illusion.
While I am deeply anchored inside I can become a better observer and conductor.
I think what ‘it’ was trying to tell me was, “go outside by all means but stay connected to your true guiding self.”
I’m safely back inside now, peeping out occasionally till next time.

To Beethoven, to Me, to everything at once inside.

Get back inside now!

by

days and I

A day is a big canvas that is painted by the universe before I wake up.
Viewed from a distance, days drift past like poetry floating on a cloud drizzling me with droplets of paradise.
Lovely stuff.
Have another sip of Shiraz.

On closer look though…

My real day is more like waking up in a movie that plays at speed multiplied by two, to a reality I barely comprehend and a script that arrives late.

My deliberate intent to have a ‘smooth’ day does not re-paint that canvas or slow the day down, all it does is fiddle with my attitude.
I have concluded that there is a sovereign entity called ‘a day’ and then there is ‘I’ who is part of everything else that paints this canvas. I am then mercilessly merged with that day. It helps if I try and be content with that because the day will happen upon me regardless and everyone else keeps on painting.

How do I approach a day when I wake up after a night of restlessly purging nightmares, or when I open my eyes thirty-thousand feet high squashed in coach-class, or stare at the ceiling in a stuffy flat in the concrete jungle, or without any possessions on a park bench?
What do I do when this is another day where I feel like Mr Nothing and I am clueless and I am lost?
What do I do now that I know, that I don’t know how this day is gonna shape up?

Jumping up all groggy, croaking and moaning is one way to say, “Hey, I’m still around and ready to face you head-on, just give me a moment.”
Meditating just after waking, – before coffee, workout and all, undoubtedly has a soothing effect on the irascible morning mood.
Bonding with nature by walking barefoot on dew-drenched grass at dawn, while energising and re-vitalizing, changes nothing of the day either.

Some days go easy and smooth and I accomplish great things at super speed and on other days, every time I look at the clock, its a few hours later and nothing has happened.
I still haven’t been able to figure that one out because it’s not for my lack of wanting it to happen.

Good days for instance, when everything works, should be stored as templates so that other days can base themselves automatically on such acquired intelligence. Where I come from that’s called learning. But days won’t have any of that. I mean we’ve been waking up ever since we’ve existed, – as long as humanity has been around. That should have ironed out the very last glitch in waking up and sorting our days. But it clearly hasn’t.
Why not?
Has evolution overlooked something?

I want to nail each day perfectly. I am also convinced that even the most difficult questions, this being one, have a simple answer. If it doesn’t, then I’m either looking at it wrong or it’s man made. Wearing academic lenses presses my nose flat against the fish bowl bluring any clarity and trusting in a divine plan is no ticket for finding an answer either.

So how do I get a perfect day?
Well it seems that it depends entirely on how well I can navigate the unpredictability of the billions of ripples that other elements cause in my day.
It’s like flying at warp-speed through galaxies of stars avoiding collision at all cost. One wrong move and you have an argument, a crash, a dis-ease…

A day is an unemotional and impartial constant of chaos I am always subjected to.
A day has so much paint on it’s canvas that if it were audible it would just be deafening noise.
A day actually isn’t alive. I am the only one alive and I do the growing (evoluting) or stagnating.
Only I have the ability of using a tool that has become super-sophisticated with time.
I can think!
Therefore, I can choose what of the day I like and where I must duck and dive and (re)act.
I can choose to operate from a basis of ethics. I can be mindful and gentle or I can behave irrational, believe nonsense, create disasters, abdicate responsibility and be fanatical.

Here’s what differentiates between just another day and ‘my day:’
My thoughts, and, my being aware.
To be aware I have to be present with my senses in the now. All five, six, nine, 21 or 57 of them.

Those senses require a big processor with a large memory and firmware with actions called instincts hardwired which speed up my lethargic decision making process.
It makes a significant difference if I keep that processor in tip-top shape.

I feed it only the finest, purest ingredients and pamper it with care, – most of the time.

For better days!

by

The Z(th)en man

Not Zen. No. Then!

Then when…
Then while…
Then during…
Then before…
Then after…
Then rather…
Then never…
Then always…
Then perhaps…
Then if, then…
Then, then…
Then see…
Then now…
Then…

Always then. – Never now.

My ‘then’ shield.
I retaliate with ‘then…’
  “Then, hah, watch out.”
It’s my secret weapon of escape from anything. The delusional ‘Then-blaster.’

“Hallo Mr Then-When-Do, time to meet Mr Now-I-will.”

‘But, if, then and when,’ mixed with ‘maybe and perhaps’ and a serving of procrastination and indecision will affect no change.
Tiny words that become my reason to remain inactive. It is fascinating how I can hide behind the ‘then screen,’ and actually justify my state of being. “Yes, then I will do something.”

Between then-bliss and then-hell is the fulcrum of my seesawing life where everything ceases and meditative balance reveals the ‘now.’ There is no ‘then’ in the now, there is Zen. This is the place where it all happens. This is the pumping heart of super-oxygenated life. Life is not when I fall of the bliss edge or into the hell abyss. Life is at the fulcrum and this is where it expands as much as I let it. I am my own rev limiter but my engine can’t over rev so why use it?

I know ‘then’ is an adverb but it doesn’t add anything to my verb called ‘Life,’ except when the ‘then’ becomes an instigator of action, a wake-up-call, now ‘then’ becomes a friend.
When ‘then’ takes me away from the now into ‘Thenland,’ pulling me from the present, it radically and immediately shrink-wraps my present and my possibilities.

Imagination is not ‘Thenland.’ Imagination is ‘Nowland.’ It is part of our ‘Land of Is’ that we create. We make it ‘Thenland’ because we say it is not reality. But I have just redefined reality and called it Fantality. I have expanded reality to be bigger, much, hugely bigger, and all encompassing far beyond the experience of our prime senses to the far reaches of our ‘ever-expanding’ imagination. Fantastic reality.

Go ahead try it and live in Fantality.
Forget ‘then,’ turf the word ‘limit’ and ‘boundary.’ Let them call you delusional. Fly on your broomstick and magic carpet. Soar your kite.

Thank you life, you rock!

 

 

by

Coffee naked in the MilkyWay 

Midnight.
 Respite from the heat.
 Coffee, with milk.
 No sugar. 
 Life is sweet.
 Naked, sitting in the MilkyWay.
 Does Sirius care, or Castor wonder or Betelgeuse blush?
It must be an accepted fact then.
 Coffee, naked, in the MilkyWay.
I realise I am not round.
 I am odd.
 All the big things are round.
 I am small.
 I do think. I think so. Do they?
 Are big thoughts round?
 Going round and round.
Dogs bark at night. 
 They know the MilkyWay.
 There must be other dogs up there.
 Why else would they bark?
 Even on cloudy nights they bark.
 Prove me wrong.
 Ask your dog.
Three times I saw the wand of light.
 Meteors that burnt bright.
 I soaked my rusk.
 I bent my head.
 I bent my fingers.
 I caught it just before it fell apart.
 I have to bend.
 My thoughts bend too.
 Where does bending go?
 It comes back to you.
Between one star and another
 there is lots of space to cover.
 Even to Jupiter and Mars.
 The grass is wet.
 I am entranced by all the stars.
 Am I just a visitor from somewhere far?
 Naked on a chair in the MilkyWay.
 Drinking coffee at midnight.
 Magic, I say.
The whole sky had moved.
It was the deep of the night.
The chair was now empty.
The stars were still bright.
I went searching for you.
Sometime after coffee at midnight.
Naked, in the MilkyWay.
by

African summer morning

Fountain_DSC6097

It is truly summer now on the southern tip of Africa.
Daytime temperatures have broken the 38C (100F) numerous times already.
Yesterday was another one of those hot days.

Suddenly, as if I have missed a month or two, the sun has nearly reached its southern most point, the tropic of Capricorn, also called the summer solstice.
At five in the morning she rises into the coolness, 20C (68F), of the waning night, greeted by the red-chested Cuckoo’s call and the laughing doves cu-cu-roo-cuuing while the southern Boubou entices her with his melodious voice. It is not a silent time and yet it is a quiet time. Wagtails, Robins, Thrushes, Bulbuls, Sparrows, Masked Weavers, Amethyst Sunbirds and Hadeda’s abound. The swallows are doing acrobatics in the sky. A faint breeze rustles the green leaves as they catch the first rays of sun. The lawn is refreshingly wet and cool to walk on barefoot and all the birds find something on the green carpet or in the bushes to eat. I sit by my fountain like I did last night when it was illuminated by solar light and I let the new day dawn on me. Each drop of water brings the sun higher into the sky.

It is a glorious time of the year.
The garden is expressing its joy in the most wonderful colours and shapes. If someone would ask me if green is one of the primary colours I would absolutely affirm it, and yet red, yellow and blue are.
Days flow into nights and into days again as summer winds its magic through our lives. The fountain of summer gives abundantly as if to say, “Drink to your hearts content, my partner the winter is having a rest.” Disbelieving I look at the garden that there once was winter where now there is not even a memory of it anymore. Such is life. Thankfully I embrace the summer and forget the winter. Thankfully I remember the good times and mostly forget the bad and difficult ones.

As I take a deep sip from my cool jug of water I feel life invigorating me and summer blessing me. If I had nothing and was given a chance to choose amongst many things I would choose summer first and then everything else. What would life be without the beauty and fruition of summer? Nature knew all too well that summer days should be the longest days of the year.

Give me sixty hours in a summer day
 and I will write you poetry for fifty-nine
 the other hour I will sing to you
 as I prepare another rhyme

My words like a mountain stream will flow
 and their story breathlessly embraces you
 summer days and summer nights will glow
 now that I've found what I know is true 

Give me ninety hours in a summer day
 and I will play for eighty-nine
 one hour lovingly I will fill my heart 
 sending you this dearest gift of mine

My eyes in awe another summer day will see
 and every moment addictively I fill my soul
 summer, without you I could never be
 you give my life, a reason and a goal

Give me a lifetime of summer days
 I would dream for all but one
 One day I would spend in gratitude
 Wishing you are never gone
by

Shining me

For as far as I can look back standing in my own light has seldom happened.
I needed to first become aware that I am a light that can actually shine.
Others regularly out-shone me.
It was as if everybody else was aware that shining ones own light was advertising oneself to the universe, – except myself.
Somehow, perhaps early circumstances affecting that aspect, I was not a shiner. I understood the principle that if I don’t shine my own light then I am under the radar so to speak. What I didn’t understand was that for anything to happen in my life I have to switch on my light and keep on shining it.
Being boldly visible like a super-star is another thing, but shining my own light, not just a candle, but a real light, is a requirement to life, – or so I would like to think now.

It is easy to stand in the rays of someone else’s light.
My husband this…, my wife that…, my company…, my friends…, they all shine a light and I can find comfort gathering myself under their umbrella of light.
Long before I ignited my own light I had found others’ light. I would ask, “Why can’t I be like them?”
Little did I know that no one can be like another. Unbelievably so each and everyone’s light is also different, – very different, even if they are your own offspring. It is an utter mystery to me how there can be so many of us and we all shine a different light. Man has become such an expert at cloning stuff and yet the universe is all about diversity. Even when it all looks the same, it isn’t.
Another thing I find a paradox is that when I shine I emit something and yet I actually attract something. I give something, and yet that very process of shining(giving off), that radiation I emit, actually attracts stuff and doesn’t affect my shine at all, it might just make it brighter. It has a principle of action and reaction built in. Shining, more than anything, seems to attract stuff which has a basic consistency of what I shone out there. If I have a dull light it is impossible to attract sunny, resonant, interesting stuff.
This observation leads me to say that:
“What I am I attract.”
Truthfully, I didn’t know that for a large part of my life, and even when I got the message I actually still didn’t get the gist of it until much later. Whatever was shining was a side product of whatever I was doing, but not a deliberate attempt. Sometimes one can shine and don’t even know it. That is cool, but when the light goes out then it becomes a problem, because when darkness takes over in your head you are exposed to such an onslaught of negativity and misfortune that ones only hope is to find that light again.

But, how do I find that light of mine so I can shine it?
I love fantasy, I even write it. I love to think about an ethereal world, the metaphysical, the spiritual, the magical. I love to dream.
When I get down to doing stuff however I become a realist, pragmatist. I need concrete stuff that works.
However intangible this might be, I have absolutely learned about the power of thought. Thought is the essence of my light. Because I can dial in any thought, and I can really go overboard here because my thoughts are private and so I can think whatever I want, I can change my light with such variability and speed, like a tuning knob on one of those old radios, that my light becomes like a discotheque kaleidoscope or a rave club shadow world. Surfing up and down the spectrum of light causes my thoughts to race inconsistently and so I never get to the point of actually emitting anything long enough to evoke a desired reaction, except getting back some garbled snippets of everything but really nothing coherent and usable.
Once I got to this realisation I knew there was only one cure. I had to sit down for half-an-hour and meditate on being light: pure, glorious, radiating, warm, embracing, shining light.
I am light. I shine. I am.

by

mornings – or the gift of time

Which other period of the day has the gift of time like the morning?

If I rise at four and go about my business I am never running late. Even when I get entirely absorbed in some activity and forget time, – when I look at the clock again, thinking, “gosh it must be late,” it is not half-past-six, no, it is ten-to-five. Quite unbelieving I can settle back relaxed and continue once more with my activity without any stress. And even if I feel the need to check again after a while, true to its promise to give me time, it will still not be half-past-six.

Early mornings miraculously give me the gift of time.
Don’t many of us just snooze through this period totally oblivious to its potential? When eventually we leave sleep behind we most likely are already running late. That means we are behind in time. We are trailing not leading. Having given the day no opportunity to present us with its gift we will conceivably never catch up during this day and because everything is late, and by some universal law just gets later as time goes by, the next morning sees little chance of presenting us with its gift either as we need to catch up on some sleep.

The morning presents me with a credit in time. Fortunately I have realised this early in my life already so I’ve made use of that ‘free’ present quite extensively.

I ask myself why would I not want to receive that present gracefully?
Somewhat greedily, hungry for more time, I look around if I can find more than one morning in a day. Maybe there are, I am still looking, based on the idea where there is one there must be more.

I do know about the relativity of time however. Some times are longer than other times, but, according to the clock they are the same time. I didn’t invent the clock, but if I would have, I know I would have not come up with something so pedantically accurate, monotonously torturous, boringly consistent, ridiculously invasive, stubbornly un-negotiable and unbearably, frustratingly unstoppable.

Maybe time exists? It’s supposedly one of the building blocks of the universe. Time and space. That’s according to man in his infinite wisdom. Hah.
But the clock can hardly be called an ingenious invention as far as inventions go. Inventions usually give me something. What does the clock give me? Time? You must be joking!

That is all besides the point now because contrary to popular belief, as I have found out, you can actually get some time back.
The earlier the mornings I can manage, the more credit I have in my time account.
And there is no currency that comes close to time. I am a ‘timelonaire,’ yeah, yeah!

Four o’clock going on half-past-three.