He wakes up. Morning Joe is on again. He takes a shower and brushes his hair. He walks out of the house and it is muggy outside. He takes pictures on his journey and wonders why he is taking pictures of his journey. He did not see the scrabble-skitter insect this morning. It is probably still lurking under his bed or it has already burrowed itself into his body through one of his soft warm orifi. Nothing to be done. In France socialists are back. In Greece no one can form a government. In Spain everyone is unemployed. In Italy things are not going well. In the UK the Rich and the Powerful are sucking what little marrow there is left from the bones of Empire. America is still deluded as more and more Tea Party libertarians engulf the political process and he is really behind on his Mandarin learning. Ni-hao Kai-lan is all he has so far. He gets home. He sleeps.
The Sleepcoat League
Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado. View all posts by The Sleepcoat League