These artificial things called "years":
how annoying. They're perceptual engines
that drive us through our lives, keep us
rushed and harried, depressed and habituated.
It all starts again on "January First,"
which we're urged to celebrate. On the
Second, we must report to work on time
or get fired, and we must start
counting the god-damned shopping-days left
til the Apocalyptic Sale. (Everything must go.)
hans ostrom 2013
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