He wakes up. It is early. He gets up. He writes. He eats breakfast. He goes to the gym. He has a shower. He eats. He gets very tired. He is very very tired. He goes out. It is cold out. It is very cold out. He watches improvised comedy and he laughs and smiles. His back aches. He eats food. He sits next to restaurant made pop tarts. He eats them. They taste like pop tarts. Only here would someone make gourmet pop tarts. Gourmet pop tarts. He watches more comedy. He smiles and laughs. He is not tired. He is awake. He drinks coffee. It is still cold. There is still an attempt to understand the pilot who flew his plane into a mountain. Currently he is giving depression a bad name, pilots a bad name, people who commit suicide a bad name, mass murderers a bad name, joggers a bad name, men a bad name and people who are in photographs a bad name – depending on who you listen to on twitter, tumblr, facebook and the newspapers. There are three people reading the newspapers. The Rock is entertaining in SNL especially when he motorboats Pete Davison’s crotch. That is classic comedy. Deep, rich and fulfilling. With that thought foremost in his mind he goes to sleep.
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