HOURS, MINUTES, SECONDS, THISNESS
People often ask, what’s thisness mean?
If I said haecceity, you’d put a foot through this screen. Nobody says haecceity.
If I said it’s the denomination of time after seconds, you might stop for a ‘thisness’ and say ‘tell me more’. Of course, I’d be making it up on the spot and you’d know that but being a nice person you’d toy with my psyche and say ‘carry on, really, I’m interested’. I’d then blush and carry on having lost my way a little, but my sunny disposition would say ‘stop processing and start explaining this micro-division of time you twat’. So I would. I would count. I would count so fast you’d not keep up. I would count so fast i would pass out. You’d feel responsible as you’re a nice person and I’d come to then we’d go at it again. This time you’d count with me and we’d both slip into that space where thisness lives. The one where we’re out for the count – god I hate double meanings, especially when they creep up on you like that one just did. Still, we’d be breathing heavily, coming round, like boxers recovering from an upper cut. Thisness would then be thatness. You’d be long gone and I’d be wondering how it is I still fail to hold a conversation. Sure, I can spill one, or burn one. You try holding a conversation, whilst it’s moving at 100,000 per thisness.
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