He wakes up. He watches Up with Chris Hayes. He used to hate it and find it really abrasive but now it is his favourite show and he hopes that it keeps going. He likes that it is on Saturday morning and Sunday morning and that there is heated discussion whilst he snoozes in his bed. It is the best morning show. He has a toaster strudle for breakfast and a coffee. He is living the American Dream. He helps with a couch that is ordered but it is too large to fit into the apartment and up the stairs so the movers have to take it back. During the move the President of the Condominium officiously appears and reminds us that the elevator is not to be used for moving furniture. He replies that the sign specifically and the order directly talks about moving in and out of the apartment. There is no moving happening just one piece of furniture. The President leaves smiling wrapped in his worthless power. He will probably write letters. He watches more anime and reads more Proust. They blend magically together. He does laundry and has lustful thoughts about every woman he has ever met. Every woman. I’m every woman it’s all in me he thinks as he remember that Whitney Huston has died and that people are blaming Bobby Brown. It is the faceless people of the internet. Perhaps they think he murdered her. Maybe he did but it is probably some reference to drugs. Sleep.