He wakes up. He reads some of Atlas Shrugged. He is now 75% through the book. It is full of psychopaths but perhaps it is an accurate portrayal of a certain kind of relentless human being and not a terrible antidote to the Horrors of Stalinism. Perhaps this is the book that explains why many Americans are terrified of Europe and socialism. Perhaps it is not explanation at all. He makes himself a coffee. He sees his landlord who has just returned from being abroad. He hugs him and consoles him on his loss. He tells him that he has got divorced. There is shared happiness in this thought. Then he goes to get a haircut and to buy a pair of sneakers. There is a pretty girl behind the counter who has lovely hair. They flirt but they do not exchange numbers. He wishes that he had exchanged numbers. He likes his new haircut. He plays some piano. Then he plays some more Words With Friends. There was supposed to be a trip to the zoo today but there has been radio silence on that matter. He learns about the concept of bronies. He learns that it is adult male fans of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. He has to watch it to see why there is such a thing. It is a Manichean Epic, as all children’s programmes in the West are, but this particular one has an ancient Gilgamesh feeling about it. The term that irritates him is brony. A man cannot simply like something that he is supposed to like. He has to give it a name, give himself a title, form a hideous club of some kind then conquer the thing by memorising the useless trivia, competing with others in relation to that useless trivia as he, unyielding, sucks all the meaning from the thing and catalogues what remains in neat piles of information – like reverse cooking. He goes out into the cold clear day and takes pictures in the woods near his house with his new digital camera. It is the first digital camera that he has ever owned. He bought it for himself as a divorce gift even though he cannot really afford it and even though he has other debts that should be paid off but he takes some pretty pictures and he then uploads them and there are compliments. He will take more pictures on Monday at the Inauguration of President Obama. Then he goes home and he practices some more of his piano and he listens to some Coursera Lectures on Genetics and Evolution and then he reads some more of Atlas Shrugged which is like eating a Mountain of Hate then he furiously masturbates until it hurts and even though his libido is non existent he at least maintains an erection for the duration of his rubbing. Then he goes to sleep.
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