A Few Weak Words On Time... To... Ya Know, Pass It.

I've got a problem with time, man time, and by man time I do not mean the best 30 minutes a gay boy can have in San Francisco, I mean time as observed by man. Seconds, minutes, hours and so forth. I hate them all. Whenever I am forced to adhere to a schedule it puts me in a vicious mood.

That is because every tick of man's clock strangles my mind with thoughts about how much "time" is left, about how much time has already passed, and menaces me with a feeling of contempt and anger that man would invent such a horrific thing.

I can understand the use of time. It can be useful when coordinating drug deals and ransom exchanges, but the concept of it is something I cannot assimilate into my life and remain happy. I like to sleep, I cannot sleep when I start thinking about "time."

I don't think I'll ever be on time.