SEA SICK

I have known time

TIme is has been my philander (tyrant)

Now only time can save me

Last night I actually counted up all the days that I'd been alive. 14,000. 14,000 exactly. I double checked it again
and again. Just to be certain. Incredible I thought, such a perfectly round number like that; of all the days of
the years . What are the chances? On the one perticular day that I decided to count. Such a nice, neat
accomodating number. It has to be a sign I thought. Surely it has to be. A sign from the Gods that they were a
witness to the turning of the seasons in my life's trajectory. An epithany. This had to be what an epithany felt
like that. Tomorrow truelly would mark the beginning of a new epoch this time!

Tomorrow......? Oh God, no it's not is it? It can't be! Without a single muscular twitch of my being, a single flick
of the eye to the corner confirmed it. It was after midnight! An extra day lay uncounted. The bastard digital
alarm clock emanated it's filthy electric light forth. 00:37. The blinking colon between the hr and min winked at
me like a condemned but unrepentant man between the bars. He didn't give a shit anymore, any small
pleasure drained from anyne would be gratefully recieved.

Well I decided his time had now come. That had been mocking sneer too many. I grabbed the cunt in a shot
and projected it with every ounce of strength I could muster from my forsaken memory towards the opposite
corner of my shocked and bedshitting bedsit! Even in it's death throws however, in one last moment of cruelty
the plug cord reached its zenith of sudden tension midway through it's flight and ricocheted back and
destroyed itself against the peeling pine of a bedside cabinet from whence it had been launched. One last
humiliation. I couldn't even dictate it's death. As the shreds and contortions of plastic, electric circuitry and
pine carvings rained to a rest over the room, and (bizzarely, like bloody flesh) wallowed against a wall, I felt
that voltage of pain I regularly get at times like this. The universe had again confirmed it's irreverence.

A gulping horror gasped through the room. Ok I thought, I might have over reacted here. It's just one day.
14,001. Let's reason here. Maybe that's the way it's meant to be, the world sharing it's deterministic and
ordered beauty but with a secretive caveat attached, only revealed to the lucky few. Yes, it suddenly,
somehow, looked even more enchanting than before, almost more perfect. 14,001. Like 2001; A Space
Odyssey? I mean why had Arthur C. Clarke choosen that particular year and number for the momentous
occasion? Why not 2000? Surely that would have intuatively been presumed to be more natural? Maybe. But
maybe only to the uninitiated amongst us! Yes, he could see it too, like me! Maybe I'd been a little harsh on the
damned clock. Then again, it definately needed replacing anyhow. The sticky snooze button that only
functioned when pressed at a ridiclous and forceful angle had ruined many morning moods. Yes, it was going to
be ok. Subtle and tidy anomalies were ok. ...wait. Anomalies!.. Hold on,,

Oh dear God! I fell sideways from the bed. Anomalies = Leap years.

Fucking leap years.

It wasn't 365 days per year to be calculated after all...

I think I must have blacked out for sometime. A sweet smell like chewing gum and a changed dawning caste
through the air. Sweetness all around me. A excruciating peel of a single eye restored the memory. Before the
shroud of a rescuing and faded dream had lifted I realised that welled around my prostration, were pools of
hatefully cheap beer burning into the neglected cheap wooden floorboards. Why was I only clothed in my
pants? I'd been here before! Pieces of ex clock and cabinet debris lay semi submerged, almost lilting like
abandoned shopping trollies and contorted metal junk in a junked up dockland river. Was that a fragment of
clock in my hair? Something within my head subsided to one side and my stomach shreaded and teared it's
familair distress warning. Here comes another day at sea. I'm sick of the sea. I am sea sick..

Time is, in many ways, like a sea,

Do not believe however that time has a shore.

The question is whether time has a seperate ether of air above?

We all float upon the sea.

They're are two kinds of people who sail the sea,

Those who are directed by the winds and influened by the tides,

And those who who call themselves sailors,

They contruct sails,

And choose which way they are directed.