Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. It is early. He gets a wonderful email and so it goes from there for the rest of the day. He gets a bus and a bus and makes coffee and a bus and a train and no one cares about the Commonwealth Games and it seems that the Commonwealth should be disbanded because it seems to be a final desperate attempt to hold onto the British Empire and no one in power likes self-determination of the powerless because they know that it means they will have to address the oppression of their power and at the same time lose their power and become equal with everyone else and the powerful hate that thought and will do anything to stop having that thought so they ignore it and meet in secret and in public and suggest and plot and decide and cajole and threaten and posit and try and maintain the kyriarchy which is his new favourite word which he will not give the definition of here then he eats some brunch which is a sandwich with ham and cheese and mayonnaise and then he has a coffee with vanilla creamer and then he draws some pictures and makes some notes because those seem like important things to do and they make him feel important. Then the Taleban want to talk but they have conditions so all the journalists say that talking is pointless because the conditions are ridiculous but at least they are conditions and a place to start talking and negotiating our conditions are never ridiculous they are always proper and appropriate and suitable and Libya two years after the war is a disaster and Ghadaffi was proved right it is tearing itself apart and tomorrow the Prime Minister will be kidnapped and hubris writ large as Cameron and Sarkozy raise aloft the hands of Mustafa Abdul-Jalil who is now noteably absent from any of the mainstream discourse but it doesn’t matter because the cheering crowds were there and the photo opportunity was sealed and no one cares about the nuance because in the nuance hides the messy truth. Then he goes to a mussel bar that he initially mishears as a muscle bar to meet a friend and his wife and they eat mussels and drink beer and talk about Human Terrain Systems and the appropriation of academia to fight the fight for Empire and then he goes home and he bathes in the warm glow of happiness he has only but recently discovered and he watches Parks and Recreation and he wonders when everything will go wrong. He hopes that they will not go wrong. He sleeps.

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The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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