He wakes up. There are many worse things than socks and sandals. He sits in his chair at work staring at screens for hours doing nothing productive just staring and then trying to lick his own eyeballs which is impossible because his tongue isn’t long enough and then flicking through web pages and then doing the same on his phone and then on his kindle and looking at the same things and pressing buttons and staring and eating and drinking thick black coffee like tar and he can’t tell the difference between reality shows and drama and the news and sitcoms and documentaries they are all the same they are all the same they are all the same they are all the same. Captain America smeared all over the media landscape. A mother who worked in a hospital is dragged behind a police car in Brazil. She dies. There is uproar. There is no ned to it. It is called inhuman but it is entirely human because human beings as always did it and using the word human soley for the good things humans do seems to be a little one-sided. He is never his best self. Humans are never their best selves. There is no such thing – just the time before composting begins. He sees an Illuminati eye hovering above the road. No one else seems to see it so he ignores it and heads into Dunkin’ Donuts for a donut flavoured coffee and a coffee flavoured donut. His confused tastebuds do not thank him. He hears the endles screams of a Mother who wants to know what has happened to her missing son and the plane that her missing son is on. She is dragged away by men. Others scream and ululate journalists parents officials a multi-limbed gaggle staggers towards the open door that soon closes behind the woman locking the questions out. Hope is held out for the resolution to the disappearance of a little girl and now perhaps a serial child rapist holds the key. Then an amber alert for a young girl missing for a week because the mother didn’t want the shelter manager who may have taken her to lose his job and bits of the plane may have been found and then it may not have been found and maybe Courtney Love knows where it is after all and Michael Gove is criticising the Cabinet for being full of old Etonians and then he is being criticised by a poet for giving school property away to private companies and then he eats a burger and enjoys sangria and reads some Chekov and some Bible and some Shakespeare. He puts a sleep tracker on his wrist and then he goes to sleep.