Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He feels groggy. Then he feels alive but this feeling doesn’t last very long and he feels groggy again. He met his housemate last night with a firm handshake and eye contact on the door to the house when he had forgotten his key at work. There was warmth and friendliness and tiredness emanating from the man. He seemed kind. He puts on his clothes. He drinks a coffee. It is a hazelnut coffee. This is currently his favourite coffee. He remembers watching a man karate chop the rain away from him yesterday because he didn’t have an umbrella marching through the rain oblivous that his karate chopping was not working his clothes drenched his wet hairy plastered to his face. He is not the man who is doing this but he could see that in years to come he could be the man doing this unaware of the futility yet continuing to chop away at the beads of water as they pour down from the sky. He eats a curry sandwich. He eats some pasta. He reads a book. Everything conspires to mediocrity today. Until the moment he gets a frozen yogurt at which point the day turns into a musical with singing and dancing. Ehud Barack stands behind him asking questions about the missing Chibok girls. He seems saddened by the answers he receives. It is very hot outside. It is very hot indeed outside. He watches Dancing with the Stars and is said when Danica Patrick is booted off but he knew that already because he is watching it on Hulu and he read earlier in the day who had been booted off. There is no time for surprises now. There are spoilers everywhere. He eats rice and noodles and has a drink of gin or two or three but no more than three and tempers them with ginger ale and water. There is talking and laughter and love and John Oliver is getting better and episode two of his new show is very entertaining and clever and thought provoking and all the things the internet has already said. Then he reads some more. Then he lies back and thinks. Spoiler Alert – Life is going to end in death. 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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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