Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. Consumerism consumes consumers. Yumyumyum. Cell phone searches. Police sweeps. We are our own surveillance. He watches people through the bus window and then realizes he is staring at strangers. The Ricky Gervais backlash continues slowly but steadily. He had a new House mate that he does not see but senses because there are shoes in a place there is not supposed to be shoes and there is a light underneath the door of the bedroom. There are noises. Human shuffling and coughing. he finds a dried wasp on the inside of his bath robe. How long has it been there? Did it live there? When did it die? How long has he been home to this poisonous creature that found it within it’s nature not to stab him and stab him even as it died alone far from it’s fellow wasps. It’s brethren. It’s sistren. What is the listening equivalent of voyeurism? Earism? He sees familiar people on the bus but there are no exchanges of smiles. He saves that for the bus driver so as not to seem like a pervert. He smooths his librarycard with his finger. He finally has it. The ability to borrow books for no money from the American state that he lives in. All good things cone to those who wait. He watches a rabbit run across the road. Birds sing. Blossom is wet on the trees from the rain yesterday. There will be more rain today. Rain and heat. Steam rises off skin. He wonders if he is a crime against humanity. A crime against civility. He is getting tired of this life. He drinks a coffee and feels better. Some of his best friends are humans so how can he be anti-human. The First Minister of Scotland is caught praising Putin. it’s Pre-Crimea so it’s okay because Putin has stood for nothing objectionable before this nasty Crimea incident. Scotland is to be the island paradise for the Russian Aristocracy. As much rain as you like. He takes a test designed for women and confidence. He discovers he has lower average confidence but as a woman this is something that is very common. He is not a woman so he is not sure what to make of this. He moves on with his life to something that he can deal with. He eats chocolate and succumbs to another terrible Jimmy Dean Breakfast Biscuit double. Again they look like toys. Again they taste like melted plastic. Maybe they are children’s toys and he has been going to the wrong aisle. He chastises a powerful congressman for mispronouncing a word. He feels marginally empowered. He thinks up t-shirt slogans. Capitalism doesn’t care is definitely the worst one that he comes up with. He will put it on a t-shirt and sell it and that will show the man who is boss. The man that is who. He eats cold pizza. He reads. He goes to sleep.

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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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