Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He wakes up. Maya Angelou is dead. Then a real estate millionaire is giving out clues on Twitter to find money. He is seen as a hero but maybe he is a slum landlord a racist and he finds glee in manipulating the poor and desperate he makes them take pictures maybe he has a wall of them. He is making the greedy and desperate and poor his puppet playthings. An old man pulls a car with his teeth. A little boy plays the piano beautifully. Maya Angelou is dead. Cursory repeated conversations about mental health that are copy pasted from the last murderous rampage. It is national burger day. There is not much pollen but it is hot. Maya Angelou is dead. There is not much hope in the world. The powerful cling onto their power. The weak are left tumbling in the dark with only the infrequent sugar rush for company. Maya Angelou is dead. There is advice on morning television from sexperts. Should you love him or should you leave him? He does not wait for the answer. He accidentally strokes a woman’s hand when he tries to hold the door open. It is humid outside. He eats a salad. He reads. Thomas Piketty is still the topic of conversation. President Obama announces a new anti terrorist fund. It sounds terrifying. It sounds like a new school of the Americas. It sounds like a license for autocratic regimes to terrorize in the name of power and lies. It is $5 billion of oppression delivered by the American tax payer to perceived enemies of dictators and money mongers and oil oligarchs. A friend reminds him of an old history lesson oskar schindler was a sudetenland german. He watches the new Tom cruise movie. It is groundhogs day with aliens. It has a bad third act a poor ending of no consequence or jeopardy yet there are some good jokes but he would still not recommend it groundhogs day 2 edge of tomorrow shallow with a fun first act. Laughter in the theatre until a biker asks him to pee on him. He declines the offer. Ice cream and running for the bus and tasty meats and Maya Angelou is dead and 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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