Some Days

Some days are chipper, tip-top, the tits. Some days are down, inconsolable, difficult and smudgy. Some days are ho-hum, hum-drum. Some days are triumphant. Some days are a haze, a daze, a dribble of tasteless liquid. Some days are bountiful, boundless, brilliant. Some days offer alliteration, rhymes, footnotes[1] or other exciting literary techniques. Some days are filled with the soundtrack to a comedy with a happy ending. Some days are haunted by the soundtrack of a tragedy waiting to happen, a train wreck that won’t stop. Some days go on and on and on and on. Some days stop. Some days leave you breathless. Some days leave you gasping for air. Some days leave you filled to capacity. Some days leave you hungry, thirsty, longing, yearning. Some days are yesterdays. Some days are tomorrows. This day is right now. And what else is it? What else?

[1] After all, footnotes seem exciting – the prospect of learning something that was too long, too obscure, too something to include in the text, but still important enough to give a shout out to.