He wakes up. His body remember that he went to bikram yoga yesterday. Muscles that have been asleep for a year are stretching a wake it is a beautiful and a painful process. His mind is buzzing and he feels a feeling that he recognises as happiness. He watches the news. Obama and Netanyahu and Peres walk in the screens behind the presenter. The video has been set into slow motion so it looks like the beginning of Reservoir Dogs. He imagines Little Green Bag playing over the top of this slow motion walk. Are they going off to commit a robber that goes horribly wrong and ends in the death of everyone? Probably. He drinks a coffee and he has half a donut and he eats some mixed nuts and he writes a poem and he likes some poems and he follows some people and he hates the use of the word like and the word follow but what is he to do he is not the architect of this Brave New Future that he is barely a tiny cog in. He thinks about a TED talk he watched recently about a man who films a second of his life every day. This was held up as a wonderfully creative thing but he hates it he hates it with a passion that he cannot put into words. He used to like TED talks but he now cannot get past the idea that has formed in his mind recently that they are nothing more than life coaching lectures for the emerging geekocracy that now controls everything that he says, does, consumes and is. There is no place for pessimism and depression in the world of TED and he thinks that this is a shocking oversight. Failure, destruction and chaos are the very crucible of life. Life can have no other purpose other than the breath from moment to moment. Yet TED always has to make things practical. Everything must have a practical use. Art must have a practical use. Masturbation must have a practical use. Comedy must have a practical use. There is no place for the sake of the thing. Utility is God. There is no space for useless levity or pointless frivolity. He can see a machine one day that will be made that will suck the joy out of everything and the joy will become the fuel that powers space arks that fly out into the distant ever decreasing stars even as the Earth explodes. God is God is God is Dog is undefinable so he has another coffee and he thinks about his failures and he revels in them then he thinks about a very small one and it makes his buttocks clench. Why do small failures make his buttocks clench? He does not know the answer to that. When he returns home he does some laundry and then he folds the laundry and he feels marginally better for having ensured that he has clean clothes for the next few days. Maybe this will increase his chances of sexual congress. Maybe he will feel the desire for sexual congress so that this will become a real and legitimate talking point in the internal conversation that goes on at all waking points of the day. He feels he needs to brush up on his latin. He goes to bed.