Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. A swollen whale carcass washes up on a beach. The enormous expanding metaphor terrifies the local residents with the underlying meanings that could be drawn from it’s rotting stench, it’s enormous size and whether or not it is possible to connect it to the worries in the centres of Capital or the Palaces of the powerful. He sees Matt Dillon. He sees Forrest Whitaker. They are strangers with familiar faces. He stretches his psuedopodia out of the gelatinous mass of the public extending out to these two famous people reaching with his fronds to stroke and experience their physicality perfectly and completely. They look confused. He looks horrified. He doesn’t know them. They do not know him. He stares at the familiar masks that entertain him rictus on bodies that movie erratically below as if they were powered with hydraulics attached to steaming tubes trailing along the ground to a reeking back room full of engineers and chief scientists desperate to continue the facade that dreams are real as real as the misty mystery of reality. The joyful meandering debate continues about the nature of humane execution as there ever could be such a thing. Perhaps hemlock and milk would be the best way in the manner of Socrates. Everyone a philospher sent to their own existential oblivion.He reads that we are now in a post-antibiotic age. More end days. More fear. More enemies at every gate physical, mental, spiritual. He is winded by his orgasm. He lies back on the bed light headed and unable to breathe properly. He is old. Rob Ford is old. Rob Ford is going into rehab. Rob Ford is going to stop being a late night punchline for a while as he battles with his various illnesses. Jimmy Fallon misfires a number of jokes into an audience who, bless them, are willing him to succeed. He will have to try again tomorrow to satisfy his relentless hunger for approval. He squanders the rest of the day surfing the web – trapped in the web – stuck in the web. He eats a burger. He eats fries. He plays a video game called Risk of Rain which is not about the weather. The 234 girls abducted from Chibok school in Nigeria are still missing and unnamed but a swelling tide is rising to have them remembered and saved. He hopes that they will be remembered and saved. The world is awful. The world is not so bad. The world is full of people. People are awful. Except for the ones who are not awful. He goes to sleep.

Published by

The Sleepcoat League

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

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s