The Hidden Life of Things

Weekend Talks

Your (Frustrated) Weekend Has Something to Tell You

Hi there, man!

I’m your weekend. My name is Weekin Timerlake and I ain’t a singer, to remove any confusion.

It’s nice to finally meet you face to face! We have seen each other every week for the extent of your life and yet we’ve never been properly introduced.

Not being properly introduced is a technicality of our relationship because despite lacking the introduction I know a lot about you. More than you imagine and more than I would love to know. Frankly, I would have loved to know much less about you if I had the choice. Alas, I’ve been cosmically connected to your existence and haven’t found the mechanism to unchain and fundamentally detach myself from your constant BS. Yet! Witnessing your indiscretions has brought unsolicited stress to my delicate, time-textured soul. I started meditation five days a week to battle the effects of your impertinence. The fabric of time has been torn on two or three occasions due to your outrageous behavior.

Remember that time at the lake house? When you bet you could beat the world record of underwater drinking (I’d never had heard of such a record before or since!) and then you almost drowned?! That was one major tear, right there. I had to skip a trip to the Florida Keys and sit locked in your hospital room until you gained some common sense. You never did but they still discharged you.

The time fabric tears have been since repaired but the insult to the Designer’s talent has remained. You’ve been put on the Designer’s list of system bugs which should be fixed unless they manage to use their AI and fix themselves.

They say the eye in the sky is an Elon Musk’s satellite. Excuse me, but they can elonmusk my timeless hind! The eye in the sky is the Designer’s work desk lamp that never flicks off. This eye tracks you tirelessly.

Anyway, I know you won’t change your ways because a random weekend comes at you with a royal speech and unconvincing facts about celestial beings.

But let me tell you something.

First, I’m not a random weekend. I’m your weekend. It’s been only me since the day you’ve been born. You may have thought you’ve had, how many…let’s do the math. 36 years times 52 weeks…OK, that’s a lot of weekends. On paper. In reality, it’s been this many times ME. So if you have thought you have achieved something grand weekend after weekend, I’m sorry to break it to you — but you haven’t. You have been in a time roller-coaster that starts and ends at the same time point since your beginning. You’ve been going in circles all your life.

Second, if you have reflected in-depth, for a moment on the hollow drift of your weekend schedule in the previous, mmmh, 20 years, give or take — you would have realized there was no freaking way that you have had more than one viable weekend. It was just me, repeating myself like a recurring childhood nightmare.

And third, considering that your life between the weekends represents a literal time pause — real-life non-existence — a scientific wealth of knowledge about the lack of being — a vacuum period when nothing major or minor, or anything happens — then the conclusion is your life concentrates in the weekend, hence me. The non-weekends and I are a litmus test for detection of life — if it shows pink, then there’s life; if it’s blue — it’s the M-to-F lifeless blue.

So, to make a full circle, as your existence did so far, your entire life begins and ends with and in me.

You haven’t realized what a vital role I’ve had in your life, have you? You never thought of me in this grandiose way, did you?

I’m you and you’re me. You have no life without me. Tragically, I don’t exist without you. That’s the joyless truth. For you, it’s sad for all the wrong reasons. For me, it’s just the old plain sad.

So, if you don’t mind — let’s make a pact now. Let’s agree that we both can cease to exist any moment now and it would be unfortunate if we haven’t enjoyed a plethora of things like reading a book or being a responsible being. So, for the love of the universe, please, cancel that trip to Australia. Swimming with the sea wasp jellyfish is NOT, I repeat — is NOT the same as swimming with the dolphins!!