How I Survived Monday
Mondays are not a fresh start. I need them for damage control. Don’t come preaching to me about clean slates, renewed energy or whatever motivational LinkedIn speech people believe in. On Mondays I urgently need to restock. On sleep, on energy, on clubbing outfits and most importantly on whatever chemicals will carry me gracefully into the next disaster.
This week came with additional pressure because on Tuesday I had to open another exhibition at a gallery, which means pretending I am emotionally stable enough to stand near giant photographs while people say things like “your work really captures presence.”
You can cope with anxiety in healthy ways, of course. Meditation, breathing exercises, herbal tea, or you can just deal with it properly. So I called my dealer who for understandable reasons, prefers conducting business in the parking lot of a deeply forgettable strip mall somewhere outside town. The kind of place where every building looks temporary and nobody asks questions because everybody is there for reasons they don’t fully want to explain.
By the time I drove back into the city, after responsibly testing the merchandise, I already felt significantly more optimistic about both my artistic career and humanity as a whole and because there is absolutely no reason to go cold turkey on a Monday, I decided to stop for one drink at Bar No. 5. Which turned out to be packed.
Not in the glamorous sense either, this was a specific kind of Monday crowd. People doing their absolute best to collectively forget this is technically the worst day of the week. Half the room looked emotionally exhausted, the other half determined to push through it, and somehow together it created the atmosphere I needed. Nobody there seemed interested in self-improvement. Nobody spoke about productivity. Nobody suggested journaling.
Just music, dim lights, good music and enough alcohol to suspend any awareness of modern existence. It was a fantastic start to the week.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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