What is it about Monday that breeds melancholia? Is it the ponderous distance from Friday, the insipid conflux of responsibility and duty, or the tethering embraces of socialization? Rumor has it that “everything that rises must converge,” therefore, rise we must: above the miasmic, ennui-inducing strands of our proletarian lots! So let us ascend from the ashes of ambition, and combat the stultifying grind of the “everyday” by indulging in a little frivolity.
Day by day we crawl towards salvation—the glorious beacon of freedom and fleeting mercy that is Friday—only to repeat the endless Tantalusian cycle anew by weekend’s end. In order to maintain homeostasis (as well as sanity) we must temper desire with duty, in this finely honed balancing act of existence. In that light, here’s the rundown of the weekly restoratives, guaranteed to revitalize and reinvigorate even the most jaded of souls!
We are in it: the inevitable decrescendo towards civility and normalcy. The frigid aftermath of the volatile highs of St. Paddy’s weekend are typically associated with a week-long hangover—a gradual decompression from the bombast and insanity that lulls the weekly warrior into a funk. To alleviate the languorous haze induced by the work-week grind, the natural remedy is to inject some joviality into the everyday—a proverbial week-long “hair of the dog” that lessens the sting of Reality’s cruel embrace!
With the emerald garb relegated to hibernation, the debaucheroues memories shall have to sustain for another year’s time. Until then, a little daily indulgence shall have to suffice!
The most gluttonous Tuesday of the year has arrived! While NYC broods about in its usual Winter slump, down in New Orleans the furor is in full swing: decadence raining from the sky, indecency plying at every avenue, carnality incarnate—ah, the final, riotous purging of hedonism. The onset of Lent tomorrow marks the return of temperance and decency—if only for a few weeks—yet that doesn’t mean the denizens of NYC must abstain from their bacchanal urges. New Yorkers fear not, if only for today, succumb to the Dionysian allure throbbing within your veins.