He wakes up. He is not alone. He goes back to sleep. The roads are slush and ice. They are walking along the road together at the side of the road together one in front of the other looking for a house a village a crossroads. There are cars speeding past but they do not hit but they nearly hit. He gets out of sleep. He gets out of bed. He walks to the bathroom his morning erection bouncing unabashed in the dark. He turns on the light. He pushes his etection down and bends his torso forward and somehow he manages to hit the bowl it does not hurt too much a familiar ache. He washes his hands he turns off the light the sun is coming up through the blinds he turns on another light and then he turns on the kitchen light and then he turns on the keurig machine. He feels guilty about the keurig machine but he uses his refillable coffee cup for the keurig machine and feels a little less guilty. He puts a paper filter a tiny paper filter into the refillable keurig cup and it almost but not quite fits and then he takes the coffee from the cupboard and opens the coffee and uses the special spoon to scoop the coffee into the filter in the refillable k-cup and he makes sure to open the trash can and do all of this over the trash can so that if it spills and it will spill because he is messy it will spill into the trash can and this happens and then he puts the special coffee scoop back in the coffee bag and closes the refillable k-cup but it will not close because extra granules of coffee are caught under the hinge of the lid and he presses hard hoping not to have to wipe them away but preferring that they be crushed with his mighty strength. He does not crush them with his mighty strength. Instead he positions the refillable k-cup in the kuerig machine and with one swift movement brings down the handle so that the machine itself holds the k-cup top in place. This seems to work well. He presses the button to make hot water pass through the coffee. This does not work. There is not enough water in the keurig machine water reservoir. He walks to the fridge. He opens the fridge door. He finds the jug of filtered water. It is in the fridge door where it always is. He picks up the Britta jug of Britta filtered water. He closes the fridge door. He turns and walks back to the keurig machine. He removes the top from the reservoir. He pours the Britta filtered water into the keurig water reservoir. A light goes on. Noises emanate. Coffee is made. Triumphant success. He refills the Britta filter water jug with water from the tap and then he returns the jug to the shelf on the door in the fridge. He takes a break after this high drama. He puts some vanilla almond creamer into the coffee. It sinks to the bottom like always because it is not cream but vanilla flavored mashed almond. It tastes good though. He sips a little. He lets the cat sit on his stomach. He lets the cat scratch his neck. He is not letting the cat do anything. The cat is doing what it likes. He turns on his computer. The one that is not connected to the internet. The one that he is writing his great American novel on. He got the idea from George R. R. Martin. No distractions for this Great American Novel. The Greatest American Novel ever. The computer is old and loud. The screen is black and the writing is green. he writes for half an hour. He sits for most of that staring at the screen. He types the letters and then deletes the letters he has typed. He waits for his alarm to ring. Finally it rings. With relief he stops. Then he gets up. He drinks some more coffee. He takes all of his clothes off and turns on the Wii. He Brings out the wii fit board. He turns on the wii. It doesn’t work. He turns it off. He turns it on. It does work. He weighs himself. He is not lithe. He grunts. He is not enormous. It will do for now. He will poo later and that will hopefully remove a couple of pounds. That will make him feel better. He puts his clothes back on. He prepares a honey and cinnamon hot drink. He gets the honey and the cinnamon from the cupboard. He gets the filters from the cupboard. He gets the filter holder. He puts the filter holder on the cup. He heats the water and pours the water onto the dry cinnamon that he has already put in the filter paper. He lets it sit and turns his attention to the food. He gets the eggs out of the fridge. He gets the chorizo sausage out of the fridge. It is the last chorizo sausage in the fridge but not the last chorizo sausage in the world. He places the fried egg holders on the griddle pan. He sprays them with oil. He turns on the gas. He cuts the chorizo sausage and the puts them on the griddle and they sizzle and they smoke. He breaks the eggs and then pours them in to each of the fried egg holders. There are two fried egg holders. He turns on the oven. He puts two cooked biscuits in the oven so that they will eat up in time. He prepares the breakfast for the cat. He pretends he is not preparing it because it is important that the cat does not think that it is making him get breakfast even though the cat is actually making him get breakfast. He goes to the small bathroom and the cat follows. He knows that this is a charade but it willing to play along with the foolish human shaped cat who cannot hunt. Then he returns to the kitchen with the cat and fills up the eating toy with dried pellets and the cat easily gets them out after the sitting and the silence comes the eating and the pawing. The eggs bubble. The sausage spits. The biscuits heat. Then the are all ready. He turns the sausage one more time and tamps the excess oil off them and brings the biscuits out and opens the biscuits and puts the eggs one in each biscuits and splits the sausage between each biscuits and puts parmesan cheese in one of the sandwiches but not the other and then checks on the honey cinnamon and the cinnamon water is ready and he adds honey and mixes it and then she has arrived from her shower and she is radiant and they eat breakfast together and watch the television. Then he showers and then he dresses and then he brushes his teeth and then he gets his lunch from the fridge which will be potato and chicken and cabbage and also fruit and yogurt and then he reads about the 100 years war. Then he puts his shoes on and prepares treats for the cat and there is talking and laughing and anger that the power is about to be turned off in the building and then the power is turned off in the building and there is much wailing and gnashing of teeth like in the bible even though this tragedy isn’t biblical in nature. Then he puts on his coat and gets her coat and scarf and shoes are put on and cat toys are placed and bags are packed and carried and doors are opened and closed and goodbyes are said to the cat and the door is locked. Then he walks and she walks to the elevator and it doesn’t work but the other one works and they walk to the other one along the long long empty corridor and the elevator arrives and they get into it and on another floor another woman gets into it and they smile at the man at the front desk who smiles at her far more than he smiles at him and they walk hand in hand to the station and the air is fresh and they say goodbye and he walks and walks down the stairs and takes photographs of strangers and he sits on the train and he reads and listens to the radio and he gets off the train and he goes up the stairs and he takes pictures of strangers and he gets to work and he draws lots of pictures and he drinks lots of coffee and he eats some crackers and he draws some more and he talks to colleagues and to friends and he listens to the news about the plane that has crashed and as the day progresses the tragedy increases and there are pictures of wreckage and there are pictures of distraught relatives and no news comes in so the speculation begins and there is not enough information to fill the time that exists and the time that exists is infinite yet constricted and pictures come in of pieces of plane and a black box is found but remember that it is orange all the experts say and then he takes his lunch out of the work fridge where he had put it earlier. He gets out the potato and the cabbage and the chicken and he heats it up in the microwave and he talks to colleagues about tragedy and he listens to colleagues as they talk about their frequent flyer experiences and they are lucky not to be dead and they are lucky that their planes have not crashed and then he finishes heating his lunch and he takes his lunch to his room and he eats his lunch and he drinks some water and he goes to the bathroom because he is drinking a lot of water and then his eye starts hurting and he rubs it more and it hurts more and then a friend gives him a wipe because he sees him suffering and he goes to the bathroom and he cleans his hands and he cleans his face and he uses the wipe and slowly his eye starts to feel better and he returns to his lunch and he eats his lunch and he finishes his lunch and he talks to colleagues and the President of Afghanistan is in America and he is visiting the President of America and it is the anniversary of Iwo Jima and he listens to stories of massacre and tragedy and tunnels filled with gasoline that is set alight and flame thrower operators who explode and combust and the horror and all the heroes are dead there are no living heroes heroes is a meaningless word and the old hang on and visit the island and regret their visit because they churn up their memories and churn up their hearts and travel through time and parts of them long thought dead come to life and those sparks of life that remain slowly die. Then he walks home and then he takes photographs and then he waits for a train and it is full so he waits for another train and there is space to stand and he takes a photoraph of sneakers and he gets off the train and he walks to his house and there is still no power and there is a gaggle of children trapped by the elevator and he doesn’t want to get trapped with them so he walks up the stairs all 20 flights of stairs and he regrets that he has taken the stairs these 25 flights of stairs but he keeps walking up the stairs this 50 flights of stairs but eventually he makes it and just as he does the power comes back on and he hears cheers from strangers apartment and he breathes deeply and heavily as he staggers along the corridor and he opens the door and there are hugs and love and wine and coffee and Fresh of the Boat and a Cadbury’s cream egg and he reveals that he ate four of them at the weekend because she was away and he was comfort eating and he tried not to but one he ate and then two he ate and then three he ate and then four he ate and only five minutes had passed but he had not put all of them in his mouth at the same time so he was okay he was not objectionable he is an adult who pays taxes and has a job that an adult can do and he has a driving license and pays utility bills and can cook various meals that taste good. Then he eats some pasta and pesto and vegetables and he writes and he wrestles and he runs with the cat and the cat is impressed and the cat is then fed and honey and cinnamon are made and the filters are brought out and the cinnamon is put in the filter and the water is put through the filter and then the cinnamon water is ready and then he adds the honey and then all of this happens again and two drinks are ready and he has crack pie from Milk in New York but he does not succumb to the glorious crack pie even though he wants to eat it and then he gets ready for bed and puts his pyjamas on and then he brushes his teeth and then he turns off the keurig machine which he still in the back of his mind feels terribly guilty about and then he cleans the cat food tray and then he turns off the kitchen light and the living room light and he turns off all the heaters and brushes his teeth again and then they lie down in bed and they read and laugh and look at each other and then they turn on a meditation tape and then probably at some point when the lights are off and the music is playing and the soft voice of the invisible woman brushes their hair they fall asleep.
The Sleepcoat League
Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado. View all posts by The Sleepcoat League