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He wakes up. He wakes up too early. His alarm goes off and he wakes from a dream of Scottish Independence and dancing a jig but then he realises his alarm went off too early and he doesn’t know why he is dancing a jig because he can’t vote and he doesn’t know how he would vote because he keeps changing his mind but it looks like someone is going to win. Somewhere an otter eats a fish. Somewhere else a deer looks off into the distance as it hears a noise. John Kerry is talking to Congress again. The ladies in Pink are standing behind him again. There are signs. Bored looking members of Congress ask questions. They all look like they want to be playing golf with fundraisers at their high walled golf clubs. He watches a trailer for Fury. He wonders at the constant refrain of the brave little Americans fighting the gargantuan enemy when the truth is that America is gargantuan and the enemy of America is always little. There is no terror in that or profit in that or shame in that. There is shame in that. Shame is everywhere. He reads Waiting for Godot. GODot. godOT. A magician wins America’s Got Talent. Will he magic away the financial crises, the military crises, the crisis crises? He will not but he does seem to be good with his hands and he has a sincere to the point of mania Tom Cruise smile. He draws, he plots, he schemes. He sleeps.

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