Another Day.


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…

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Another Day.


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…

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Another Day.


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.

Another Day.


He wakes up. The pilot is depressed. The pilot was depressed. Now there is a reason and everyone is happy that there is a reason and he hid his sick note and depression is a crime and he murdered all those people and shaming begins in earnest and then angry responses are loaded and tweets are fired and the battle is commenced as nuance cowers under a bush or in a cave or up a mountain anywhere it…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The pilot is depressed. The pilot was depressed. Now there is a reason and everyone is happy that there is a reason and he hid his sick note and depression is a crime and he murdered all those people and shaming begins in earnest and then angry responses are loaded and tweets are fired and the battle is commenced as nuance cowers under a bush or in a cave or up a mountain anywhere it will not be hit by the angry shrapnel of social media that zings through the air because clear cut answers are required and answers are required even when there are no answers. He eats some oatmeal. He writes. He has a coffee. He sighs as he weighs himself and the chirpy voice of the wii fit says that he is overweight in it’s gratingly optimistic sing song voice just like the little “oof!” noise it makes whenever anyone stands on it’s wii fit board they engineers must have loved that idea when they installed it the relentlessly upbeat microagressive wii fit AI. fuck you wii fit AI he thinks fuck you and your pre-programmed morning chipperness. He wants to smash it and throw it out of the window. He does not do this because of his immense self-control of which he is, in this moment, rightly proud. He puts on a black sweater. He looks good in it although it will turn out to be a mistake later because by lunchtime it will be covered in dried skin scratched out of his beard and his hair. He does not know this at the time as he admires himself in the mirror the tall mirror angled against the wall. Then he puts underwear on. Then he puts trousers on. This is the order that these things should happen. Then the toilets are fixed and they do not constantly stream cry waterfall and the silence in the apartment is now only broken by the sound of the catch destroying soft furnishings with his claws. He walks to work. There are less people on the street today. He does not know why. He eats food. This helps pass the time. He talks. This helps pass the time. He goes to the bathroom. This passes the time. Later on he will heat a quesadilla at a restaurant and it will taste really good. For now he sits alone in his room unaware that this excitement is to come. He looks at pictures of war and suffering and death and he chooses the ones which are most suitable for public consumption. He reads more about police corruption. He draws. He adapts self-help phrases. He eats some more food. He watches some comedy. It is funny comedy. He does more smiling than laughing so the performers will have no idea how much he is really enjoying it. His energy bobs like a boat on a roiling ocean. He watches Grimm. It is grim. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. It is too early to wake up with a cat on his chest but he has a cat on his chest. He summons the energy to get up. There is a poodle in China who has been trained to walk on its hind legs and wear little girls clothes. This is on the television in the morning and this is what is news. Meanwhile some poor rich white boys are being let off the hook for singing a song whose principal…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. It is too early to wake up with a cat on his chest but he has a cat on his chest. He summons the energy to get up. There is a poodle in China who has been trained to walk on its hind legs and wear little girls clothes. This is on the television in the morning and this is what is news. Meanwhile some poor rich white boys are being let off the hook for singing a song whose principal…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. It is too early to wake up with a cat on his chest but he has a cat on his chest. He summons the energy to get up. There is a poodle in China who has been trained to walk on its hind legs and wear little girls clothes. This is on the television in the morning and this is what is news. Meanwhile some poor rich white boys are being let off the hook for singing a song whose principal word is nigger. Other white people blame rap music for the white boys use of the term. Other white people are idiots shameful bigoted idiots. The white clan closes ranks when it’s threatened. They yell foul when they are caught in an offense themselves. They make the rules that they expect others to live by but not themselves not themselves at all. He goes to an Apple store it is clean and precise and organised by an algorithm that sets the best staff member with the best problem. When the staff member explains this he sounds fraught. It is a system that has just been rolled out. He describes it as skynet. A little twinge of fear. He has been busy all day because the algorithm so efficiently pairs worker with customer. There are drones for sale on the shelves. Soon the drones will do the work of the humans. Low slung humming robots buzzing round the store helping people then as the people are replaced because they are not efficient enough more robots then the robots will start using the word people to describe themselves and they will forget the origin of the word people and wonder what those shuffling husks and bones that exist at the periphery of their existance are but of course they won’t forget because their minds will all be on the cloud they will know exactly what people were and they will not care unless they activate their empathy chipset in which case they will sorrow and care deeply. Then he eats a lovely meal at a Chinese tea house and then he goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. That cat is on his chest. It is comforting. It is like a metaphor. Then it starts gently scratching his face. This is also like a metaphor. He gets up. He makes breakfast. He drinks coffee. He checks the weather with a wet thumb. He watched too much Parks and Recreation. He knows this because he thinks that all the characters in the show are his real friends and colleagues. They are…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. That cat is on his chest. It is comforting. It is like a metaphor. Then it starts gently scratching his face. This is also like a metaphor. He gets up. He makes breakfast. He drinks coffee. He checks the weather with a wet thumb. He watched too much Parks and Recreation. He knows this because he thinks that all the characters in the show are his real friends and colleagues. They are…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. That cat is on his chest. It is comforting. It is like a metaphor. Then it starts gently scratching his face. This is also like a metaphor. He gets up. He makes breakfast. He drinks coffee. He checks the weather with a wet thumb. He watched too much Parks and Recreation. He knows this because he thinks that all the characters in the show are his real friends and colleagues. They are not his real friends and colleagues. They are constructs of human behaviour created by writers and actors. He is a construct of behaviours and thoughts of an author. He is no more real than they are. He is no more real than the thoughts he is fed word by word by word. He wonders whether he should buy a wig. He decides not to buy a wig. He wants more Patton Oswald in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. His Manadarin learning is not going well. His Spanish learning is not going well. He takes pictures of strangers with his phone. He notices hairs growing out of his nose. Out of the top of his nose. Lines of hairs. Why are they there? Why are there so many hairs on his nose? How did they get there? What are they doing there? He slumps. Then he plucks. Then he moves on, bravely, with his life. He watches a space rocket firing. It is glued to the ground. Are NASA testing a rocket or trying to speed up the rotation of the Earth. He does not read the report so he decides to assume the latter. He is tired. He is cranky. He is tired. He tries to remember the difference between its and it’s. He goes to bed.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He remembers no dreams. He drinks coffee and eats cereal. He takes a shower. He takes the elevator. He takes the bus. He takes another elevator. He types. He writes. He drinks another coffee. He has a conversation. He applies make-up. He eats turkey meatballs and tomato sauce. They are good. They sustain him. He enjoys them. He savours them. Mouths flap about Iraq and about…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He remembers no dreams. He drinks coffee and eats cereal. He takes a shower. He takes the elevator. He takes the bus. He takes another elevator. He types. He writes. He drinks another coffee. He has a conversation. He applies make-up. He eats turkey meatballs and tomato sauce. They are good. They sustain him. He enjoys them. He savours them. Mouths flap about Iraq and about…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. He remembers no dreams. He drinks coffee and eats cereal. He takes a shower. He takes the elevator. He takes the bus. He takes another elevator. He types. He writes. He drinks another coffee. He has a conversation. He applies make-up. He eats turkey meatballs and tomato sauce. They are good. They sustain him. He enjoys them. He savours them. Mouths flap about Iraq and about Afghanistan and the injustice of imprisoning journalists in Egypt but remain quiet about imprisoning lawyers in America. He gets too excited about the opening of a new Shake Shack and not energized enough about the crumbling infrastructure of the Western World. He listens to a woman channel his dead father to his half-sister. The woman doesn’t even change her voice. She should make more effort being a spirit medium she should at least do voices and lock the door of the room she is in so her son doesn’t come in and ask for a snack and close the window so that the roadworks outside aren’t overwhelming the recording and not give false hope or closure with cold reading but this is all too much to ask for and it probably will help someone somewhere life is difficult enough without letting people cope with tragedy in their own way. He walks. He stands. He sits. He waits. He reads. He walks. He cooks rice and broccoli and cauliflower and soy sauce and he eats it and he drinks water and he watches Lawrence O’Donnell return to television with a fine beard but he doesn’t listen to the words because they will be the same words as before and not bad for that reason but he is tired and he can’t think and doesn’t want to concentrate on relentless horror on the outside because he is busy enough with relentless horror on the inside. He lies down and watches sleep take him away.

Twitching Rigid


A moist fuck

In the temple of taboo.

Siamese duck

Made into stew.

Suck drenched wet cunt

As, after dinner, grandparents

Ruttingly grunt

In their political tents.

The Marxist Ferret


Frying pan clam-shut cat

Drives me, distancing future from that

Future I planned on my vernal mat.

Torpor conquers my feverish terror

In a rigid battle to close the door.