Tuesday
The needed correction to an unneeded mistake. "Yes, but all mistakes are unneeded - why make the distinction?" you say, to which the narrator might reply: "Fie!"
If Monday is Mundane then Tuesday is Trivial: most observe it as a segway, at best - the termination of a Monday and the promise of a Wednesday and because of this it is regarded as Trivial. Matters to a lot less people than it doesn't matter to. While some praise Tuesday for its transition-ness, for its pure forthright-ness, its tinny texture, others regard it with the same disdain that they give to long hallways.
The famed and flamed ISO8601 lists Tuesday as the second day of the week, occurring snugly between the leather elbows of Monday and the cashmere cardigan of Wednesday. We of the Gregorian calendar look down upon this fact with ample amounts of disbelief and reproach.
The French have a wonderful knack for pronouncing the day as "Merde" while Melville constantly confuses the French's word for the day with his own book (a critical failure). Strangely, all three of these mistakes somehow echo the shape and pitch of the day with which their words are associated.
A corrected mistake: the erasure of a stray line of text in order to make what appears before and after it equally lovely. Our Tuesdays sweeten our Mondays and give breath to our Wednesdays.
The needed correction to an unneeded mistake. "Yes, but all mistakes are unneeded - why make the distinction?" you say, to which the narrator might reply: "Fie!"
If Monday is Mundane then Tuesday is Trivial: most observe it as a segway, at best - the termination of a Monday and the promise of a Wednesday and because of this it is regarded as Trivial. Matters to a lot less people than it doesn't matter to. While some praise Tuesday for its transition-ness, for its pure forthright-ness, its tinny texture, others regard it with the same disdain that they give to long hallways.
The famed and flamed ISO8601 lists Tuesday as the second day of the week, occurring snugly between the leather elbows of Monday and the cashmere cardigan of Wednesday. We of the Gregorian calendar look down upon this fact with ample amounts of disbelief and reproach.
The French have a wonderful knack for pronouncing the day as "Merde" while Melville constantly confuses the French's word for the day with his own book (a critical failure). Strangely, all three of these mistakes somehow echo the shape and pitch of the day with which their words are associated.
A corrected mistake: the erasure of a stray line of text in order to make what appears before and after it equally lovely. Our Tuesdays sweeten our Mondays and give breath to our Wednesdays.
