The headline is exactly what it says on the tin. I shun the usual 'weekend celebrations' of a Friday in order that I am able to partake of a drop (or ten) on Monday. I find Monday a thoroughly depressing day, much worse than Sunday, and I never intend to spend any Monday sober as long as I live. And even with a bottle it is only TOLERABLE, never HAPPY. It is a giant itch that only my brand of liquid relief is able to soothe.
And why not? I find Fridays a particularly busy day and write a good deal on those days. Perhaps my creative antenna is tuned better, or the ideas in my mind have a better Feng Shui about them? Who even cares? It is enough to know that Friday nearly always brings a bountiful crop of sonnets and wordy imps to my door and if I ignore the pleasures of wine on those days, then surely I have earned the right to treat Monday as part of the weekend and indulge accordingly.
I don't need an excuse to get erased (a better word for blotto) but I do need discipline. Even the most shambolic among us need the big D or else it all falls to bits in a worthless mess. So discipline it is then on a Friday so that it makes Monday far more alluring, dolled up in its 35% proof garments.
I don't see anything pretty on the M day. Its as if the drizzle of the day (even in sunshine) completely blunts my otherwise keen ability to see BEYOND words and events. It is like a shroud over inspiration, pretty words are hard to jemmy out of a Monday and so I shall do the sensible thing and pass on it. Im betting Wordsworth and his pal Coleridge did the same.
It is a grand day to be born on (guess what day I was born?) and not such a bad day to die on either, but as for getting anything of real substance written it is a wretched, miserable day, fit only for firewood. And alcohol. However lets back track a little here. Perhaps pornography is best written (if it can be called that) on Mondays.
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