Playing with time

As I was about to break the shrink wrap on my 2012 treadmill-side desk calendar (above and below), I had an idea: what would happen to my sense of time passing if, instead of simply tearing off the previous day and tossing it in the trash, I left the calendar intact and wrapped, with "2012" staring back at me from the front of it?

I like this idea and I am curious if I can continue with it for the entire year, ceremonially tossing the thing in the garbage on January 1, 2013.

Or maybe I'll sign it and offer it as a prize of sorts, a kind of conceptual formulation of a year as experienced at boj World Headquarters©™®.

What an artifice is time.

Consider Gray Cat (above), at the moment sitting right next to me licking the fingers of my right hand as I type.

No worries about the future, not much (if any) dwelling on the past, only here and now and in the moment.

It's always now for a cat, just as is the case for a photon — only the photon's traveling at the speed of light.