𝔻αƳⓈ 𝕆Ⓕ Ｔ𝐇𝐞 ฬⓔⓔｋ

How did we arrive at seven days a week?

Who decides?
Why seven, an odd number?
Why five days on, then two days off?
Why four days now, then three days later?
Why consecutive, not alternating?

Why not—

on off on off on off on
off on off on off on off

14 days a set?

When remixed it could go:

on off on off on off on
off on off on off on off

on on off on off on off
on off on off on off on

on on on on off off off
on off on off on off on

off off off on off off on
on off on off on off on

Then at the end of four sets,
take four sets off
like this—

off off off off off off off
off off off off off off off

off off (on) off (on) off off
(on) hey (off) (off) aren’t you off

but off off (on) off you’re
supposed to be of (oh)

But I got bored so (on) (on)
off I thought I’d

Get some work done
without the system
telling me to.

Turns out that’s actually
better. When people listen to
their bodies. And governments do
what they’re supposed to: serve.

While we figure out what to do
with our precious lives
instead of driving up meaningless numbers
for a small group of men

To compare dick sizes
because it doesn’t matter
if it isn’t 8, 9, 10

And even if you were,
don’t whip it out
if no one’s asking

Because what you lack in length
can be made up with girth
and if it’s size you lack altogether

Fret not, for there is still depth,
valour, and your capacity
to love.

As for me, you ask?
Well, one said “like a god”
Another, “a demon”

My first fucked me 7
days and 7 months
And 7 years.

One said “so big it hurts”
and still some
never came.

But if a Brazilian says
“it’s just the right size”
then that might explain

Why I’ve fucked in cars
and hotel lobbies

On the beach
and in your city

Elbow deep
yes that’s a baby

And maybe that is why
they call me Daddy.

(apart from the fact
that I almost had one
but that’s a different story)

And also because it is completely unnatural.

There is no balance
to five days on and two days off,
so to keep up is to be off balance,
like spinning five plates with your left hand, and drinking two beers with your right,
and when life is no longer a walk in the park, but a circus act, then the only way to survive is to become an acrobat, forced to contort your body and mind into all shapes and sizes, because “if you are focussed, you are harder to reach; if you are distracted, you are available,” and suddenly you find yourself jumping through hoops, injecting poison into your bloodstream, wondering why it hurts when you see red, but you can’t think because you’re mad with rage, at the matador who kills you slowly, with each thrust of his long sword, as the stadium watches on and applauds.

Shane Lim is a writer, photographer and filmmaker.

He received his MA in Directing Fiction from the National Film and Television School.