Sundries

It is Easter, that repurposed pagan feast-day on which the risen Christ is celebrated. And in the Greek-speaking parts of Christendom, they say "Χριστός ἀνέστη", Christos anestë, which means "Christ is risen!"

Oddly, it puts me in mind of electrochemistry. The anode, anodos is the 'rising way'; the cathode, kathodos, is the 'descending way'. If you know enough Greek, then you therefore know the anode is where the electrons rise from the cell into the rest of the circuit and the cathode is where the electrons descend into the cell.

But we celebrate Easter today, and it is not about Elektra, 'amber', leaving its cell. Something altogether more energetic escaped that day, and remains in the world at large.

Sunnight

A Sunday night seems so oxymoronic. It's just like a Monday morning. Both these things are the low points of the week, in some subconscious way. It must be the misnomerism of it all.

Sun Sun Sun

Heat. It rises off the ground and it curls around you and it tickles your skin and sometimes it makes you too sleepy to care about your dignity.

Yesterday was a bit like that. Thunderheads on the horizon and some rain, but mostly heat. It is good for a man to see the sun, but not head on, and not on the head.

Sometimes waiting for the heat is its own reward and punishment. Or crime and punishment. I think I'm suffering from heatstroke.

Weekend?

What sometimes bugs me is the curious thing about Sunday being part of the weekend and yet being the first day of the week. It's difficult for humans to think of it as the first day of the week while thinking of it as the end of the break before another period of toil begins.

I've always thought that Sunday should be a day of preparation, a day spent in cloistered meditation or unfettered bumming-around or whatever it is that burns the last remaining toxins of the previous week away and lets you start a fresh week feeling good. But it doesn't always work that way, some people won't let it work that way, and good Sundays are sometimes hard to find.

Stubby Sunday

If the week were a blogpost, Sunday would be a stub. When did Sunday become so stubby? Sigh.