He wakes up. He is lying in a bed which he doesn’t own under sheets he doesn’t own. He feels pinned down by the sheets. They are heavy and unyielding like concrete. He finally gets out of bed and finds some clean clothes at the back of the closet that he doesn’t own. He puts on the clothes that he didn’t make stitched by children and the chattell slaves of whichever factory owner who had the contract with whichever middlemen there are between him and Old Navy and Target. Then he walks to the bus and he waits next to a woman and when the bus arrives the woman barges onto the bus before the passengers have got off and he thinks that this is very rude but he doesn’t say anything. Then he sits on the bus and it makes it’s way along roads he did not lay past traffic lights he did not synchronize and cars he did not build until it reaches the bus station he did not design. Then he gets on the train that he does not own and sits in the sit that is not his. Then he arrives at work and goes into CVS and buys a Dr. Pepper that he does not know how to make and an icecream that he does not know how to make and a bag of chips that he does not know how to make. He wonders who makes the wrappings for these things and then also realises that he does not know how to make the bottle or the packet or the wrapper. He walks past the nice lady at reception and he says hello and she says hello and she is in a nice uniform but he is in hand me down clothes. He gets in the elevator that he could not build and then sits in front of the computer he could not design. Then he reads articles that make him more afraid of America than he was yesterday including articles about FBI Sting Operations and Inequality and Celebrity Culture and Spreadsheet Errors which put a lie to the notion of Austerity as a way out of the Financial Crisis and then he has a coffee that he does not know how to grow or roast or brew but he lets the hot water seep through some kind of vacuum sealed packet of forever fresh coffee powder. He feels like his teeth are rotting his muscles are decaying oil is oozing out of his mouth and out of his pores and he wonders why no one can see this as he talks to them the ever expanding pool of tar that is seeping out of him and spreading a shadowy haematoma on the ground but no one seems to notice and everyone carries on with their business as if nothing is happening and his soul is not slowly oozing out of his body. Then news comes in that someone has been cut in Woolwich in London and it has been recorded and two people have been shot and the news is confusing but it seems to be a terrorist attack and then the dead man seems to be a soldier and the two men who attacked him with knives and possibly beheaded him were shot by the police and they said that this is what is happening in their country and suddenly the war on terror is back on but it has never ended and it seems as if these two terrorists are monsters but if total war is total war and drone strikes are allowed and the field of battle is not defined as a particular place then this monstrous attack is as reasonable a part of the terrible War on Terror as any other disgusting part. Then the English Defence League take to the streets and the dirty little island that sits squatting in the water on the edge of Europe sinks a little further into the inky sea. Then he walks home but gets out of the bus at the same time as a woman and it is raining so he runs ahead of her far ahead because he doesn’t want to be walking behind her making her afraid in the dark because he is a shady looking bearded man in the dark and all men are potential rapists so it is best to make very clear signals that he is not a threat so he runs into the distance and hopes that she doesn’t think that he has run ahead to hid around a corner but it starts to rain so he forgets about that and he runs faster his breathing heavy his chest tight he finally reaches his home and he sits on his bed and he drinks a glass of water and he plays a cartoonishly violent video game and he reads more about anarchism and none of these things that he does during the day are out of keeping with the usual things he does in a day and he thinks that the summer is going to be a dangerous one full of protests and violence and desperation. He goes to sleep.