Another Day.


He wakes up. It is muggy. The air is thick like tar. It is unpleasant. Boats of migrants roam the oceans without food or water. No one wants to help them. Europe wants to wage war on them. Asian countries push them back  out into the sea. It is hell. All of it is hell. Then the Philippines agrees to take in migrants. This is a good thing. Well done The Philippines. Then he has a ginger tea. He…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. It is muggy. The air is thick like tar. It is unpleasant. Boats of migrants roam the oceans without food or water. No one wants to help them. Europe wants to wage war on them. Asian countries push them back  out into the sea. It is hell. All of it is hell. Then the Philippines agrees to take in migrants. This is a good thing. Well done The Philippines. Then he has a ginger tea. He…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. It is muggy. The air is thick like tar. It is unpleasant. Boats of migrants roam the oceans without food or water. No one wants to help them. Europe wants to wage war on them. Asian countries push them back  out into the sea. It is hell. All of it is hell. Then the Philippines agrees to take in migrants. This is a good thing. Well done The Philippines. Then he has a ginger tea. He has not had coffee for a week and a half. His head is clear. He likes his head being clear. He does not trust his head being clear. He is forgetting very simple things. He wants to blame his lack of coffee but he does not think that this is really the reason. He writes some more. He draws some more. He gets angry with a friend because he doesn’t understand the friend is joking then he feels bad about getting angry and he realizes that the anger stemmed from an uncontrollable feeling of guilt that the friend was right he was totally correct in the assumptions he made and in the way he said it even though his friend was making a joke the hard kernel of truth at the centre of the joke hurt him deeply wounded him and the raw wound caused him to lash out in anger so he apologises and the apology is accepted. It makes him feel marginally better. He drinks some Moroccan Mint tea and adds some honey. He enjoys it. A friend pays a surprise visit. It is a delight. He watches the Dances With the Stars Final. He cries a lot even as he realizes how easily his emotions are being manipulated with cheap wizard tricks. He embraces the cheap wizard tricks because weeping makes him, for a time, feel more human. He is delighted that Rumer Willis and Val are the winners. He is more delighted than he should be. He should be spending more time concerned with Important Things and Changing Lives and Making a Difference but instead he is cuddling on the couch watching manufactured tales of triumph. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. The alarm is louder than normal or his ears are more sensitive. There is a new government. Some people are happy. Other people are sad. Still others are indifferent. There is an aftershock in Nepal. More die. More are abandoned. More are homeless. He buys a paper shredder. He is going to shred paper like a spy or a government employee who only has five minutes before the…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The alarm is louder than normal or his ears are more sensitive. There is a new government. Some people are happy. Other people are sad. Still others are indifferent. There is an aftershock in Nepal. More die. More are abandoned. More are homeless. He buys a paper shredder. He is going to shred paper like a spy or a government employee who only has five minutes before the…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The alarm is louder than normal or his ears are more sensitive. There is a new government. Some people are happy. Other people are sad. Still others are indifferent. There is an aftershock in Nepal. More die. More are abandoned. More are homeless. He buys a paper shredder. He is going to shred paper like a spy or a government employee who only has five minutes before the revolutionary guard arrive to take him away or a corporate executive who only has 2 minutes before the Feds arrive. He draws some pictures. He writes some words. He writes some old fashioned letters on old fashioned paper and sends them in the post. He is not even sure that the post still works in that way. He put the envelopes into a box on the street marked post but he is not sure if it just an artifact from a previous age a living museum piece that has been left on the street. He does not know. He really wants a coffee and he really wants some wine and he really wants some chocolate but he looks at his swollen belly and he prepares his healthy smoothie and he acknowledges that the healthy smoothie is probably the better option. His legs ache. Every muscle screams at him. He does not know why they ache because he has not been doing any extra walking. He would not do well in a post-apocalyptic situation. He would be one of the first to go to be eaten to be poisoned to get the virus to become the slave to die in the opening salvo of the alien invasion to be farmed for his tasty lymph nodes. He watches Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. the ending is certainly unexpected. Then he reads about the history of violence and religious violence. Not as intertwined as one would expect. Behind any good example of religious violence there is always a human being happy to commit violence to use religion as an excuse for those who enjoy violence to commit it always a rabble to be roused always a smiling psychopath ready to be a messiah for the people. He plays The Witcher a game about hunting monsters that deals with racism and bigotry. That was not something that he was expecting. He prepares for bed and he goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. His nose is full of snot. There is a new government in Britain. Lots of people are angry. Even more people voted them in but they are staying quiet whether from embarrassment or fear who can say. His belly is full of tasty steak. His belly would make a tasty steak. What is at stake? His credit card debt is gone. Like magic it is gone. His legs ache from walking. He has more and more…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. His nose is full of snot. There is a new government in Britain. Lots of people are angry. Even more people voted them in but they are staying quiet whether from embarrassment or fear who can say. His belly is full of tasty steak. His belly would make a tasty steak. What is at stake? His credit card debt is gone. Like magic it is gone. His legs ache from walking. He has more and more…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. His nose is full of snot. There is a new government in Britain. Lots of people are angry. Even more people voted them in but they are staying quiet whether from embarrassment or fear who can say. His belly is full of tasty steak. His belly would make a tasty steak. What is at stake? His credit card debt is gone. Like magic it is gone. His legs ache from walking. He has more and more bald patches on his head that the hair he has remaining does a poorer and poorer job of hiding. He is not doing enough  work. He is not doing enough drawing. He is not doing enough. The marks he is leaving on this life are not being made with indelible marker they are being made with delible marker. He listens to Florence and the Machine. He laughs at SNL. They make jokes about drawing Mohammed. He still wants to know who won the $100000 from that draw Mohammed competition in Texas. Someone must have drawn Mohammed. Someone must have done some pictures and then been judged. Who won the money? He wants to know. The air is full of stinking pollen. His hips feel broken. It is Mothers Day in America. On the television everyone has a perfect mother. They are no flawed mothers. Their lives must be great with their perfect mothers. He scratches the cat scratching post and reads a little more about the 100 years war. He cannot concentrate on anything. His mind wanders from one subject to another subject he does not even remember what the subjects were. He is tired. He is listless. He has no lists. He does laundry. The sheets are clean and warm and so are the towels. Life is not so bad after all. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. His back is killing him. His coffee is killing him. His breakfast biscuit is full of cancer. His meat is full of antibiotics. His clothes are full of chemicals that are slowly being absorbed into his tender pancreas. His knees are aching and the pain pills he takes are giving him cancer or at the very least thinning his blood to water. He walks along the sidewalk. Fumes from cars…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. His back is killing him. His coffee is killing him. His breakfast biscuit is full of cancer. His meat is full of antibiotics. His clothes are full of chemicals that are slowly being absorbed into his tender pancreas. His knees are aching and the pain pills he takes are giving him cancer or at the very least thinning his blood to water. He walks along the sidewalk. Fumes from cars…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. His back is killing him. His coffee is killing him. His breakfast biscuit is full of cancer. His meat is full of antibiotics. His clothes are full of chemicals that are slowly being absorbed into his tender pancreas. His knees are aching and the pain pills he takes are giving him cancer or at the very least thinning his blood to water. He walks along the sidewalk. Fumes from cars fill his lungs with carcinogens. The digging work by the road fills his lungs with dust. He is sure they are trying to give him cancer. Then he sits on the metro train and the smell of burning chemicals fills his wide nostrils. Definitely cancer. Then he is sitting in front of screens at work and he can feel the cancer beaming out from every piece of whirring equipment slicing into his squishy organs. Then he eats his lunch with its antibiotics and its processed chemical cancer taste and then he feels the airport conditioning kick in and he can taste the diseases that have been hiding in the ducts and have been waiting in the pipes and now they are in him and his colleagues walk by and their illnesses jump off them and into his pores and ooze from their pores and into his pores and his soul is an oily bag. He is now mostly sickness from his food to his clothes to his colleagues to his work place to the city to where he travels to his bed where he dies or goes to sleep or the sleep of death or the death of sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. Everything is automated. The bed wakes him. Then he is bathed by a robot and massaged with a soft robot hand. The water is pumped from a pumping station by a computer and a robot. Then he is clothed. Clothed by clothes made by robots and carried by robots and delivered by robots. Then he eats food that has been picked by robots and cleaned by robots. Then he watches the television…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. Everything is automated. The bed wakes him. Then he is bathed by a robot and massaged with a soft robot hand. The water is pumped from a pumping station by a computer and a robot. Then he is clothed. Clothed by clothes made by robots and carried by robots and delivered by robots. Then he eats food that has been picked by robots and cleaned by robots. Then he watches the television…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. Everything is automated. The bed wakes him. Then he is bathed by a robot and massaged with a soft robot hand. The water is pumped from a pumping station by a computer and a robot. Then he is clothed. Clothed by clothes made by robots and carried by robots and delivered by robots. Then he eats food that has been picked by robots and cleaned by robots. Then he watches the television that has been made by computers and robots that they themselves have been made by computers and robots and all the people on the television are simulacrums of people and not real people but robots and androids that look like people and behave enough like his memory of people that he cannot tell the difference between what he sees and his memory of how people behave. Then he walks past all the people in the street who are robots or who are like him and have been provided for by robots as they all go to work on the automated trains through the automated pay gates and swipe their computer cards that connect to their banks accounts and transfer money to the automated train company bank accounts so the two automated systems talk to one another and in their own automated way wish one another good morning and then everyone is on the automated train and then they get off the automated train and ant walk their ways to their offices that are maintained by robots and automated cleaners and automated guards and he swipes his computer card which lets him into the building then he logs onto his computer and drinks coffee from the automated coffee machine and so far he has not interacted with one human being. The electricity is controlled by automation. The water is controlled by automation. His coffee tastes like a good coffee he once remembered. He watches flat screens he watches as people war and fight and die and laugh and kill and they look like people but the screen is flat and he is not sure if they are people.Maybe they are spliced together memories. Maybe they are artefacts of a dead civilisation. Maybe they are remade artificial events to set his mind at ease with the unease of the human condition. He looks at his computer. It gives him information. It gives him all the information he wants and needs. Then he goes to get food from the store and his computer gives him suggestions whispering in his ear telling him what the best combinations of food are for his preset tastes so he buys what the computer suggests that he buys and he still has not interacted with one human being through the day. Then he pays with his card and the computers talk to one another again deep down inside their systems joining and comingling a handshake or a kiss a coupling between the digital gas that these creatures expel. Then he is at home and watching human like figures on the flat screen and he eats the food the computer suggested after it was cooked in the automated cooking system and then he lies on the bed and it soothes him to sleep with preselected music and he has not had to make one choice and he has not had to interact with one human being and he is not sure there are any more human beings left in the world but he is comatose and necrotising and in a cloud of narcotic suspension. He wakes up. He remembers is dream. Everything is automated. He is automated. He is an automaton. He hibernates.

Another Day.


He wakes up. How many living beings will he interact with today. He is lying next to her. He is sat on by the cat. He watches Matt Lauer. He watches Al Roker. He watches Natalie He watches Tamryn he watches Hoda he watches Kathy Lee He watches Paul Blart He watches a couple who have had female quintuplets he watches the parents of one of the couple he does not know which one they are He sees a…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. How many living beings will he interact with today. He is lying next to her. He is sat on by the cat. He watches Matt Lauer. He watches Al Roker. He watches Natalie He watches Tamryn he watches Hoda he watches Kathy Lee He watches Paul Blart He watches a couple who have had female quintuplets he watches the parents of one of the couple he does not know which one they are He sees a…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. How many living beings will he interact with today. He is lying next to her. He is sat on by the cat. He watches Matt Lauer. He watches Al Roker. He watches Natalie He watches Tamryn he watches Hoda he watches Kathy Lee He watches Paul Blart He watches a couple who have had female quintuplets he watches the parents of one of the couple he does not know which one they are He sees a picture of their older daughter He  He stands in the elevator with an old lady and her. He walks along the sidewalk with her. He walks past a stranger. Then he walks past another stranger. Then there is a small group of strangers at the crosswalk. They do not know each other. They are all strangers. Then he walks past a Wholefoods employee. She is a stranger. Then he kisses her goodbye. Then he walks past a male stranger and another male stranger and another female stranger. Then he lets an old man go ahead of him on the escalator. He does not know anyone so far. He walks past a group of tourists by the ticket machine. He sits on the train behind strangers. A stranger sits down next to him. He sits quietly. He asks the stranger who is an old man if he can move when it is time to get up. The old man with the silver hair does this. A colleague gets off the train and walks the other way. He waves at his colleague his colleagues waves back. He walks up the stairs behind strangers. He walks past a stranger and then there is another stranger He walks past other people he does not know and he walks past a white person but he does not know if they are white or whether they are american or whether from europe or from the middle east or from australasia or russia or some other part of the world or the moon and he walks past an african american person but he does not know if they identify as african or american or as a person. he walks past an asian but does not know if they are american or if not what country they call their country of origin. He walks into cvs and sees another work colleague and waves and greets them and the work colleague who is also a friend waves and returns the greeting and then he walks past a woman and then he walks past a man in a suit and he does not know either of them and then he buys what he has collected but he does not need to talk to anyone who works there because all of the checkouts are automated so he does those but he still says good morning to an employee and the employee says good morning back. The nice lady at the front desk a stranger in the elevator two work colleagues at the front desk another colleagues who is a man another colleague who is a woman a further colleague who is a man hank Paulson and two assistants who are women one is older than the other. Then s number of work colleagues then he is alone for a while then three then four then five work colleagues then the front desk and then strangers on the sidewalk and a man playing a guitar then strangers on the platform then strangers in the train there are all colors and ages and genders and they wear clothes and look tired and some look nervous and others look glad and some it is hard to tell what they are thinking and with others it is easy to imagine what they are thinking and for some it is easy to ascribe thoughts and memories and hopes and dreams because of how their eyes radiate and their skin pulses and they glow like angels then he passes an employee of the station and walks with strangers to the escalator and stands on the escalator a stranger’s covered buttocks close to his face he walks behind a stranger and then he stands by a family who are eating and drinking and an old man who is reading and then she surprises him from behind and he knows her and they indecisively wander around the store picking food for supper and all the strangers melt away and the lady server is pleasant and there are conversations and laughter and they follow an old lady home and the man at the desk laughs and talks and a woman with a dog exits the elevator and a man gets in the elevator and the cat greets them and then escapes and then comes back and then entertainment television melts into his retina and then he watches scandal and it is nothing like the Washington DC he knows but everything like the Washington DC he imagines and after a day of strangers and those who are not strangers he goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. He wonders how many slaves help him through the day. His building his apartment his electricity his water his gas his computer his software his notepads his pens his books his clothes his toothpaste his toothbrush his soap his shampoo his coffee his coffee maker his fridge his oven his plates his mugs his sausage his egg his bread his toaster his toast his socks his underwear his…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. He wonders how many slaves help him through the day. His building his apartment his electricity his water his gas his computer his software his notepads his pens his books his clothes his toothpaste his toothbrush his soap his shampoo his coffee his coffee maker his fridge his oven his plates his mugs his sausage his egg his bread his toaster his toast his socks his underwear his…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. He wonders how many slaves help him through the day. His building his apartment his electricity his water his gas his computer his software his notepads his pens his books his clothes his toothpaste his toothbrush his soap his shampoo his coffee his coffee maker his fridge his oven his plates his mugs his sausage his egg his bread his toaster his toast his socks his underwear his tshirt his shoes his pantaloons his antihistamine drug his bag his checkbook his wallet his check cards his credit cards his store cards his driving license the elevator the sidewalk the escalator his metro card the escalator the platform the metro train his neighbor his smartphone his office building the coffee the water the paper the computers the technical equipment his food his lunch his snacks his sandwich his ice cream his pencils his pens his coloring pencils his honey his cinnamon his hot water his ticket stub the movie the actors the technicians the staff the lights the hopes the dreams the slaves the chattel the trapped the debt bonded the employee the tomato pickers the trafficked the shackled the dead he has no answers he fears the answers he wilfully ignores the possibility of the worst answers he goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. He is Lost. No, he is mistaken. He is watching Lost. It is good. He is in the kitchen. He is barefoot. He drops a glass and it bounces between his naked feet one time. Please don’t break. Two times. Please don’t break. Three times it breaks and smashes into a thousand pieces a mist of glass wafting down onto his bare feet so tiny the pieces of glass so light and then their weight is enough to cut the skin and there are a thousand cuts and blood flows and the mess he cannot moved but luckily he has help and he has ruined a beautiful heirloom glass that cannot be replaced because he is clumsy and now he has blood feet. Gwyneth Paltrow sets up a food bank challenge. She is sad that she cannot buy enough kale for the week on food stamps. The internet makes fun of her. It is compulsory to make fun of her. There is no mention that it should be possible for even the poor to eat kale. Let them eat kale. They cannot eat kale. They can eat kale flavoured twinkies.
Hillary announces run for presidency. A man commits suicide by the Capitol. His head gets red. He is mentally ill. He has a sign that no one in the media can read. He cannot even get his protest correct. Marco Rubio announces his run for president. These events are not connected. There is a war somewhere. Commercials everywhere. Medications to curb appetite, stop heartburn, no need to change behaviour that would be against the American dream. Music plays. Drones hover. Get knocked out the sky by chimpanzees with sticks. There is a metaphor there. The chimpanzees will win in the end. The dark side of child fame. There is no light side to child fame. Another man another black man is shot is killed by a gun not a tazer not a tazer by a man playing dress up as a policeman a tax executive playing dress up like Mr. Benn and now a man is dead but the tax executive is the victim because he is rich and white and was policeman of the year in the past. There are cancer hotels in China. Gunter Grass dies. He was a nazi and then he wrote some books. A year has passed since the Chibok school girls were kidnapped. No one has been found. There are rumours. The news interview a girl who escaped on the night. To disguise her they give her sunglasses. This is no disguise. Anyone who knows her will recognise her. How do they think sunglasses will hide her face. Do they think all black people look alike? The probably think that all black people look alike and even the sunglasses are too much. Everyone on the train is sleeping. Everyone is tired. Tired of this. Tired of life.Dead fish are floating in bay off the coast of Brazil. A military guard falls over on duty a calf is born with two heads animals speak in human language. There are signs but there is no meaning to them. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. The massacre at the school in Kenya has been forgotten about. The pilot that crashed his plane into a mountain full of people has been forgotten about. The apple watch is the talk of the day. It is popular. A man has been shot by a policeman for running away from a policeman whilst black. The policeman is being hung out to dry by the police force and turned into a bad apple so that…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The massacre at the school in Kenya has been forgotten about. The pilot that crashed his plane into a mountain full of people has been forgotten about. The apple watch is the talk of the day. It is popular. A man has been shot by a policeman for running away from a policeman whilst black. The policeman is being hung out to dry by the police force and turned into a bad apple so that…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The massacre at the school in Kenya has been forgotten about. The pilot that crashed his plane into a mountain full of people has been forgotten about. The apple watch is the talk of the day. It is popular. A man has been shot by a policeman for running away from a policeman whilst black. The policeman is being hung out to dry by the police force and turned into a bad apple so that we can ignore the rotten barrel and the rotten tree that grew the wood for the barrel and the rotten tree that grew the rotten apples from the rotten ground. Everything is rotten. He has a coffee and he draws some pictures and he things about cuddling. Cuddling makes the rottenness of the world more palatable. He then learns about periscope and meerkat and live streaming from phones and everyone is live streaming everything and soon hovering drones will livestream our lives hovering with us by law and social convention filming and recording when we sleep and shit and die. Then he has another coffee and imagines a glass of wine and Octavia’s Brood arrives in his postbox and he is excited about reading short stories that he helped fund and the quality of the book is good and the quality of the writing is great and he is happy. Then he reads more about the 100 years war and it seems that it was a war that was initially fought in the courts by lawyers but then this interpretation is no doubt because the writer is a British Judge and then he eats some food and then he hope there is a future for children but then he sees robots and genetically modified creatures roaming a post-apocalyptic desert not sure what their purpose is or why they are there or what they are doing and then he eats some chocolate eggs and then he goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up on platform to station. Busy children playing. Daring each other. Bravado. Pretending to jump. Laughter. One slips. Paste. Regret. Tears. Recriminations. Youthful bragadoccio. He is weeping eyes wide on horror. He can do nothing. He can do nothing. He can do nothing. He is dying. He is dying. He is dying. He drifts off into sleep but is it sleep it may be sleep or something more…

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Another Day.


He wakes up on platform to station. Busy children playing. Daring each other. Bravado. Pretending to jump. Laughter. One slips. Paste. Regret. Tears. Recriminations. Youthful bragadoccio. He is weeping eyes wide on horror. He can do nothing. He can do nothing. He can do nothing. He is dying. He is dying. He is dying. He drifts off into sleep but is it sleep it may be sleep or something more…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. There it is. There is the sun. Hanging in the sky again. There is cat vomit sat in a little pile – a little welcoming pile by the bookcase. The cat doesn’t point it out and it does not smell bad. It is dark and he nearly steps in it with his bare feet but he notices it just in time and he doesn’t step in it with his wet feet. He does not feel cold cat vomit rise up between his toes…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. There it is. There is the sun. Hanging in the sky again. There is cat vomit sat in a little pile – a little welcoming pile by the bookcase. The cat doesn’t point it out and it does not smell bad. It is dark and he nearly steps in it with his bare feet but he notices it just in time and he doesn’t step in it with his wet feet. He does not feel cold cat vomit rise up between his toes…

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Another Day.


He wakes up on platform to station. Busy children playing. Daring each other. Bravado. Pretending to jump. Laughter. One slips. Paste. Regret. Tears. Recriminations. Youthful bragadoccio. He is weeping eyes wide on horror. He can do nothing. He can do nothing. He can do nothing. He is dying. He is dying. He is dying. He drifts off into sleep but is it sleep it may be sleep or something more permanent. There are children singing out of key. He is sleeping.

Another Day.


He wakes up. There it is. There is the sun. Hanging in the sky again. There is cat vomit sat in a little pile – a little welcoming pile by the bookcase. The cat doesn’t point it out and it does not smell bad. It is dark and he nearly steps in it with his bare feet but he notices it just in time and he doesn’t step in it with his wet feet. He does not feel cold cat vomit rise up between his toes because he notices it in time. He writes he draws he drinks coffee he cuddles he breakfasts he lunches he naps. It is a fine Sunday nap that begins as fifteen minutes and stretches out into three and a half beautiful hours of nap. He wakes up. He runs on the spot for his health he is getting old he can feel his bones creak and his muscles tear and his body is tortured for an hour as his wii character runs round a little island and he watches Mad Men in preparation for the end of the show when it starts next week and he wonders why everyone is so upbeat about the show when it appears to be about the self destructive collapse of a middle age man with a terrible secret. Then he eats lovely food. Then he reads. They he talks and laughs. There are demons out in the desert. There are demons waiting and licking the air. They are waiting for the door to be opened but for now they will have to go hungry. There will be time enough for them later. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes at 0400. He wakes at 0415. He wakes at 0430. He wakes at 0500. He gets up. He reads excerpts of books about social work and revolution. He makes a coffee. He writes for an hour. He goes back to bed. He gets up from bed. He watches the sun rise. He hears the trash being picked up. He hears the school bus arrive and the tired children leave. He bathes the cat poo in more litter covering it…

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Another Day.


He wakes at 0400. He wakes at 0415. He wakes at 0430. He wakes at 0500. He gets up. He reads excerpts of books about social work and revolution. He makes a coffee. He writes for an hour. He goes back to bed. He gets up from bed. He watches the sun rise. He hears the trash being picked up. He hears the school bus arrive and the tired children leave. He bathes the cat poo in more litter covering it…

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Another Day.


He wakes at 0400. He wakes at 0415. He wakes at 0430. He wakes at 0500. He gets up. He reads excerpts of books about social work and revolution. He makes a coffee. He writes for an hour. He goes back to bed. He gets up from bed. He watches the sun rise. He hears the trash being picked up. He hears the school bus arrive and the tired children leave. He bathes the cat poo in more litter covering it for later archaeologists to find and interpret the remains. Soothsayers from the future will poke with their implements and predict fine harvests for their Chief Architect because that is what their bio-luminescent leader will be titled. He makes breakfast. He reads about the 100years war. It’s complicated and he is not sure what is happening. Apparently the Scottish are to blame or the French but definitely not the English not them they are never to blame. The Jeremy Clarkson is fired and then someone from one direction retires and jokes are made about jobs was and then black boxes are found and audio is found and mysteries deepen and speculation lengthens and there are so many fascinating faces and combinations of features fractured features frowning on the morning commute hiding laughter and joy and pain and murderous thoughts and forgiveness and shame and pity and pettiness and rage and relocations. There are suicide bombings that are mentioned in passing and CNN is excited because it gets to use all of its plane crash graphics and virtual speculation machines. Then it is raining but not very much. There is a desert somewhere in California wishing it had this rain. Then he draws. Then he commutes. Then he showers because he did not shower in the morning and he smells like a homeless man he is sure this didn’t happen when he was younger when he was younger his musk was fragrant. He lies down. The desert approaches. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


 He Wakes up. The Glowing mouth doesn’t work. This makes him sad but it is a child’s toy he bought at a store for himself and he is 38 so he probably shouldn’t care so much. He eats cereal. He writes. He feeds cat. Heeds self. Something is missing. She is missing. He watches Matt Lauer. He watches him closely. Is he human. Not sure. There is Furious 7 promotion. What are they all angry about? The…

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Another Day.


 He Wakes up. The Glowing mouth doesn’t work. This makes him sad but it is a child’s toy he bought at a store for himself and he is 38 so he probably shouldn’t care so much. He eats cereal. He writes. He feeds cat. Heeds self. Something is missing. She is missing. He watches Matt Lauer. He watches him closely. Is he human. Not sure. There is Furious 7 promotion. What are they all angry about? The…

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Another Day.


 He Wakes up. The Glowing mouth doesn’t work. This makes him sad but it is a child’s toy he bought at a store for himself and he is 38 so he probably shouldn’t care so much. He eats cereal. He writes. He feeds cat. Heeds self. Something is missing. She is missing. He watches Matt Lauer. He watches him closely. Is he human. Not sure. There is Furious 7 promotion. What are they all angry about? The price of road tax perhaps? Their car insurance policy must be exorbitant at this stage. There is a Paul Walker memorial. Will this film be a good film?  Good means so many things. He was loved. Actors are in tears. Are they acting. Is this a scene in the movie? It seems to be. He was not paying attention. He tries not to think about Paul Walker’s very young girlfriend but everything was legal so that’s okay the letter and the spirit of the law were followed. Paul Walker was loved. It is good to be loved. He walks to work. It is warm. The train is not busy. He eats empanadas. It is cold. He draws pictures. There is violence in Iraq but it is not our fault. There is violence in Yemen but it is not our fault. There is violence in Ukraine but it is not our fault. Nothing is our fault. Everything is someone else’s fault. That makes him feel better that he is not to blame for anything ever. He has a coffee. He draws a picture. He presses buttons. He wants to take a nap. He buys some flowers. He cuddles. He hears about a plane crash in the Alps. He hopes that there are survivors. He hopes that they do not have to eat each other. He eats. He remembers that it is time to sleep. He sleeps.

Another Day.


He wakes up. He fell asleep to the sound of a woman telling him that he was flying up into space as whale song danced in his ears. He is refreshed but confused. He cannot remember if he dreamed it. He cannot remember if he is happy that a meditation tape is helping him to sleep. Did it help him sleep or did he just go to sleep anyway. He does not know. He eats a biscuit with an egg and chorizo…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. He fell asleep to the sound of a woman telling him that he was flying up into space as whale song danced in his ears. He is refreshed but confused. He cannot remember if he dreamed it. He cannot remember if he is happy that a meditation tape is helping him to sleep. Did it help him sleep or did he just go to sleep anyway. He does not know. He eats a biscuit with an egg and chorizo…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. He fell asleep to the sound of a woman telling him that he was flying up into space as whale song danced in his ears. He is refreshed but confused. He cannot remember if he dreamed it. He cannot remember if he is happy that a meditation tape is helping him to sleep. Did it help him sleep or did he just go to sleep anyway. He does not know. He eats a biscuit with an egg and chorizo sausage and he reads the news and the news is not happy it is sad and full of fear and anger. He reads a book about the 100 years war and it is full of human error and misunderstandings. He watches some movies all of which deal with flawed humanity. Humanity. Floored Humanity. Flouride Humility. Brush your teeth. Brush your teeth. If they fall out you will die. The tooth fairy will make a castle out of them and become the Tooth Queen.He draws some things. He takes some photographs. He lies down and falls asleep and then wakes up. It is still sunlight out. Ted Cruz is getting ready to announce his candidacy for President. The internet is preparing it’s jokes. He eats sushi. He writes more of his great American Novel. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. Damn you clock change. Damn your hour theft. French athletes die in a helicopter crash. The American Ambassador to South Korea is freed from hospital. His scarred face healing. Milk in New Zealand is being poisoned. There is a man with a beard on the train. Everyone looks tired. He is running on the spot. He is sweating. He is tired. His knee hurts. He is balding. He is getting old.…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. Damn you clock change. Damn your hour theft. French athletes die in a helicopter crash. The American Ambassador to South Korea is freed from hospital. His scarred face healing. Milk in New Zealand is being poisoned. There is a man with a beard on the train. Everyone looks tired. He is running on the spot. He is sweating. He is tired. His knee hurts. He is balding. He is getting old.…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. Damn you clock change. Damn your hour theft. French athletes die in a helicopter crash. The American Ambassador to South Korea is freed from hospital. His scarred face healing. Milk in New Zealand is being poisoned. There is a man with a beard on the train. Everyone looks tired. He is running on the spot. He is sweating. He is tired. His knee hurts. He is balding. He is getting old. He wonders if he was every virile. He has a memory of being virile but he is not sure if he created that from parts of movies he watched and then pasted his face onto the body of someone else. He watches Hillary Clinton hang on in there. As the storm rages around her she clings to a large tree. She will be fine. She has been attacked with worse although having your own server, secret army and possible moonbase may be hard to justify to the American public. He can’t be bothered today. Watching William Shatner performing Rocket Man cheers him up. He chews on a plastic fork. Juliette Binoche is in a play. Antigone is the play. It is an old play. What is it about the ancient greeks that they knew things about ourselves that we still find that we are exploring? What is it about these slave owning temple building sailors that allowed them a special insight into how human beings tick? He does not know. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. Somewhere in the night an hour disappeared. It will be held, lying in state, until the end of the year until, without explanation, it will be returned. He is exhausted and his eyes ache. He watches the celebrations in Selma and wonders whether they will change the name of the Edmund Pettus Bridge or if it should be kept as a reminder of how close we all are to the KKK as a reminder…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. Somewhere in the night an hour disappeared. It will be held, lying in state, until the end of the year until, without explanation, it will be returned. He is exhausted and his eyes ache. He watches the celebrations in Selma and wonders whether they will change the name of the Edmund Pettus Bridge or if it should be kept as a reminder of how close we all are to the KKK as a reminder…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. Somewhere in the night an hour disappeared. It will be held, lying in state, until the end of the year until, without explanation, it will be returned. He is exhausted and his eyes ache. He watches the celebrations in Selma and wonders whether they will change the name of the Edmund Pettus Bridge or if it should be kept as a reminder of how close we all are to the KKK as a reminder to constantly fight against complacency and the idea that everything will be fixed and that white people feeling bad is often the major concern of cultural decisions that are made in America. He eats a breakfast biscuit. It is very tasty. It has egg a perfectly circular fried egg that was shaped on a griddle and some turkey bacon with peppered edge and mexican cheese which is actually a kind of cheese or rather a combination of cheeses. The cat poops but does not finish in its tray and scoots it across the floor drawing lines across the floor sketching some kind of cat art. Isis and Boko Haram join up they are friends. It seems a reasonable thing to do they appear to be acting rationally within the framework of their own reality and this is the most terrifying thing of all. A garage roof covered in young people collapses. They were celebrating St. Patricks Day. No one is dead. Several are injured. Some are embarassed. House of Cards is poorly lit and the drama is strangely played. Is it satire? Is it melodrama? Is it soap opera? Is it sitcom? It is strange. Yet still watchable. Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt is strange and sometimes funny and perhaps tasteless but also very clever and entertaining. Mad Men is tragic and stylish and humorous and progressive and conservative. He wonders how much plagiarism has been committed today. Probably a lot. He reads first person slave narratives. They are not upbeat yet still infused with the passion and eloquence of the freedom that the writers’ eventually won. Won a prize they shouldn’t have even had to compete for. He eats tasty food. He drinks some whiskey. He talks. He laughs. They laugh. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. The plane is still missing. The cat is still scratching the couch. The trees are still covered in ice. There is not enough food in the fridge but there is some food in the fridge. He draws some pictures. He reads about mens’ rights and he laughs. He wonders what happened to the Khorosan Group and concludes that they must have been a concocted fiction and he wonders why a fiction had…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The plane is still missing. The cat is still scratching the couch. The trees are still covered in ice. There is not enough food in the fridge but there is some food in the fridge. He draws some pictures. He reads about mens’ rights and he laughs. He wonders what happened to the Khorosan Group and concludes that they must have been a concocted fiction and he wonders why a fiction had…

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Another Day.


He wakes up. The plane is still missing. The cat is still scratching the couch. The trees are still covered in ice. There is not enough food in the fridge but there is some food in the fridge. He draws some pictures. He reads about mens’ rights and he laughs. He wonders what happened to the Khorosan Group and concludes that they must have been a concocted fiction and he wonders why a fiction had to be concocted when there are plenty of real threats in the world. Perhaps it was just more fun for the military industrial complex to make up a new enemy that sounded like Hydra. Maybe there are fans of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Perhaps they all think they work for Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. He drinks hot chocolate and he takes some photographs. He tries to care about work but he is tired so it is hard to care about work. He cuddles and that energizes him. He reads about the 100 years war. All he knows so far is that it wasn’t called the 100 years war at the time which is unsurprising because why would they call it that why would they think it would go on that long. He wonders when this century will be called the Century of Terrorism or The Neverending War or The Forever War but perhaps it is called that already. He weighs himself. He is not happy with the result but he is accepting of the result. His hair is thinning on his head. It is not thinning anywhere else. Hair is growing out of the edges of his ears. He did not think that was even possible. He is resigned to this. He is glad he is getting older. He could not have dealt with these things when he was younger. He was a sensitive youth. He is being  hardened by age. Not too much but enough to survive. He thinks that this is a good thing. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He writes some of his wonderful hit novel that will sell millions. He makes breakfast. He uses the egg shapers. It is a delight to use the egg shapers. He cooks the sausage patties. He heats the breakfast biscuits. He combines everything and puts it under a cloche. He feeds the cat. The cat is as grateful and forgetful of it’s gratitude as ever. As is expected. He watches the…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He writes some of his wonderful hit novel that will sell millions. He makes breakfast. He uses the egg shapers. It is a delight to use the egg shapers. He cooks the sausage patties. He heats the breakfast biscuits. He combines everything and puts it under a cloche. He feeds the cat. The cat is as grateful and forgetful of it’s gratitude as ever. As is expected. He watches the…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. He writes some of his wonderful hit novel that will sell millions. He makes breakfast. He uses the egg shapers. It is a delight to use the egg shapers. He cooks the sausage patties. He heats the breakfast biscuits. He combines everything and puts it under a cloche. He feeds the cat. The cat is as grateful and forgetful of it’s gratitude as ever. As is expected. He watches the television. He records CitizenFour. He does not watch it. Will he be put on a list if he watches it? He is probably on that list already. He watches Mad Men. He watches House of Cards. He watches Knights of Sidonia. He reads about the 100 years War. He reads about the creation of the Modern World. He reads about the difficulty in translating a work of literature into another language. He exhausts himself playing Wii fit. They bake some cookies that are tasty. He goes to sleep.

Another Day.


He wakes up. What happened? He can’t remember. There is a bare bulb swinging from the ceiling. There are shadows everywhere. He has a sheet and there is a coffee stain on the wall or is it something else it looks like a coffee stain he doesn’t want to look to closely. He turns over and thinks about trying harder tomorrow. He goes to sleep.

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Another Day.


He wakes up. What happened? He can’t remember. There is a bare bulb swinging from the ceiling. There are shadows everywhere. He has a sheet and there is a coffee stain on the wall or is it something else it looks like a coffee stain he doesn’t want to look to closely. He turns over and thinks about trying harder tomorrow. He goes to sleep.

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Another Day.


He wakes up. What happened? He can’t remember. There is a bare bulb swinging from the ceiling. There are shadows everywhere. He has a sheet and there is a coffee stain on the wall or is it something else it looks like a coffee stain he doesn’t want to look to closely. He turns over and thinks about trying harder tomorrow. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. It is 2015. Work is the same. War is the same. Love is the same. Capitalism is the same. Politics and it’s practitioners are the same. Toast is made in the same way. The television works in the same way – by magic. As does all modern technology – wonderful complicated magic. Failure is the same. Success is the same. Hope is the same. Despair is the same. Laughter is the same. Tears…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. It is 2015. Work is the same. War is the same. Love is the same. Capitalism is the same. Politics and it’s practitioners are the same. Toast is made in the same way. The television works in the same way – by magic. As does all modern technology – wonderful complicated magic. Failure is the same. Success is the same. Hope is the same. Despair is the same. Laughter is the same. Tears…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. It is 2015. Work is the same. War is the same. Love is the same. Capitalism is the same. Politics and it’s practitioners are the same. Toast is made in the same way. The television works in the same way – by magic. As does all modern technology – wonderful complicated magic. Failure is the same. Success is the same. Hope is the same. Despair is the same. Laughter is the same. Tears are the same. Shame is the same. Pride is the same. The Games is the same. Zoos are the same. Beards are the same. Fonts are the same. Wealth is the same. Poverty is the same. Difference is the same. Consent is the same. Logic is the same. Ethics are the same. The Year is the same. Marxism is the same. Revolution is the same. Evolution is the same. Cowboys riding dinosaurs are the same. Carl Sagan is the same. Neil Degrasse Tyson is the same. Grief is the same. Pain is the same. Joy is the same. Terror is the same. Happiness is the same. Sadness is the same. The Beginning is the same. The End is the same. Same is the same. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There were no dreams. He goes to the bathroom and falls over a cat. Then the cat disappears. There was no cat. It is dark. It is near the end. It is near the beginning. Gangs war with each other. Treasure Hunters are searching in all the wrong places. He runs on a running machine. He runs and runs and runs and then he runs some more. Torture has been deemed to be okay drone strikes…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There were no dreams. He goes to the bathroom and falls over a cat. Then the cat disappears. There was no cat. It is dark. It is near the end. It is near the beginning. Gangs war with each other. Treasure Hunters are searching in all the wrong places. He runs on a running machine. He runs and runs and runs and then he runs some more. Torture has been deemed to be okay drone strikes…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. There were no dreams. He goes to the bathroom and falls over a cat. Then the cat disappears. There was no cat. It is dark. It is near the end. It is near the beginning. Gangs war with each other. Treasure Hunters are searching in all the wrong places. He runs on a running machine. He runs and runs and runs and then he runs some more. Torture has been deemed to be okay drone strikes have deemed to be okay whistle blowing has deemed to be a crime protesting violence has deemed to be a crime being a person of color means living in another world being white means feeling mildly guilty but not doing anything about the disparity the two worlds the split reality because it benefits white people white men good white christian men with their suits and their ties and their cufflinks and their swollen bond accounts. War and Revolution and Slavery and Spying and Torture and Baconnaise and Wealth Gaps and photoshopped reality and the endless sleep of failure. Then the books are burnt and the e-readers are melted and the streaming of information is stemmed and the door to the room you are trapped in is cemented shut. Censorship wins and the guards have no one to guard them so they do what they want when they want to whom they want. In the darkest corner of the deepest hole a small light glimmers. It is a flame. A small weak flame. It is being fed slowly fed steadily it grows and it grows ever so slowly waiting for 2015. Then he eats an apple. Then he eats some cashews. Then he looks out of the window. Then he looks at the trees. Then he goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There were no dreams again. A black hole where his dreams should be. He watches Keenan Thompson shivering in a shirt in the rain. He watches Andy Samberg gurning into the camera with his large mouth. Andy Samberg will one day eat the camera but it will be funny and everyone will laugh and Andy Samberg will look confused but in an endearing way which will make his fans love him all…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There were no dreams again. A black hole where his dreams should be. He watches Keenan Thompson shivering in a shirt in the rain. He watches Andy Samberg gurning into the camera with his large mouth. Andy Samberg will one day eat the camera but it will be funny and everyone will laugh and Andy Samberg will look confused but in an endearing way which will make his fans love him all…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. There were no dreams again. A black hole where his dreams should be. He watches Keenan Thompson shivering in a shirt in the rain. He watches Andy Samberg gurning into the camera with his large mouth. Andy Samberg will one day eat the camera but it will be funny and everyone will laugh and Andy Samberg will look confused but in an endearing way which will make his fans love him all the more. Dr. Dre is doing very well for himself. He is very rich. Even though Apple took his company bought it and then crushed it. Such is capitalism. Expansion and destruction. There is more bombing. There is more war that isn’t called war. Everyone knows that it’s war but no one calls it war because the leaders have decided not to call it war. It is amusing and it is sad. There is talk of politics and ESPN and the NFL and power and wealth. There is a toad on the rain wet driveway. The toad is not moving. It may be crushed by a car later in the day. The rain bounces of it’s back. He drinks a coffee. He thinks about Love and Sadness and the Penumbra of Death that halos every living thing. There is waiting. There are many maps spread out over the large tables. Neat lines drawn hid the chaos. The orderly geometry hides the chaos. Except the chaos is not hidden. It struts round in plain sight daring anyone who cares to stare it direct in it’s blackhole eyes. It has many eyes. The NFL is losing the optical war but it doesn’t care because it makes a lot of money. There are loans to be paid. There are debts to be paid. He reads writing advice from David Mitchell. It includes the advice that writing is a good thing to do if one wants to be a writer. This is good advice. He tries to take it. He is told to take things for granted. That the is oil. That there is no oil. That there are genetic manipulation booths. That asexual human reproduction is normal or it will be or it was that the comedian is the vampire owl of the art world. There are bowed heads. It is morning but already people are weighed down by the day. There are turncoats hidden everywhere. The French won The War of Independence. David Hasslehoff brought down the Berlin Wall and ended the cold war. Pharrell Williams bring Iran into the fold of Western Hegemony. King Pharrell. Pope Pharrell. Emporer Pharrell. A silver fox is caught for funneling school children into a prison system that he made with a friend. He is sent to a prison but the system remains the system is vibrant and alive he was a necessary sacrifice a bad actor a bad apple a one in a million nothing to see here move along no problem with the old white haired men the criminals who legalize their crimes the villians who make the rules for themselves and the rules for everyone else. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There is more bombing. Is it legal? No one seems to care. He is offered a new phone. It looks like it’s from the future. He writes words and words and words. He watches more Elementary. He watches even more Elementary. He eats good food. He enjoys good company. He plays Tiny Death Star. He downloads Memrise language learning and promises himself that this time he will become fluent.…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There is more bombing. Is it legal? No one seems to care. He is offered a new phone. It looks like it’s from the future. He writes words and words and words. He watches more Elementary. He watches even more Elementary. He eats good food. He enjoys good company. He plays Tiny Death Star. He downloads Memrise language learning and promises himself that this time he will become fluent.…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. There is more bombing. Is it legal? No one seems to care. He is offered a new phone. It looks like it’s from the future. He writes words and words and words. He watches more Elementary. He watches even more Elementary. He eats good food. He enjoys good company. He plays Tiny Death Star. He downloads Memrise language learning and promises himself that this time he will become fluent. He gets on the bus but his pass doesn’t work. The driver is kind and lets him sit. He eats meat. He eats fruit. He drinks five coffees. He watches Obama talk at the UN. The Primeminister of Britain says that the Queen purred down the phone to him. Is the new Queen of England Eartha Kitt? He hopes that the new Queen of England is Earth Kitt. Everything is wonderful and everything is hopeless. There is no script. There is no prompt. There is in a dark cave somewhere hope barely alive but struggling towards the light. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He is inside a horrendous political commercial full of loss and hate and barely disguised threats of rape and murder and corruption. He is a plate on the wall of the commercial watching the actors perform their lines. There is sport in forgetting the horrors. We are born in violence in the crucible of the powerful. The dead and the dying are the mulch for all tomorrows parties. The…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He is inside a horrendous political commercial full of loss and hate and barely disguised threats of rape and murder and corruption. He is a plate on the wall of the commercial watching the actors perform their lines. There is sport in forgetting the horrors. We are born in violence in the crucible of the powerful. The dead and the dying are the mulch for all tomorrows parties. The…

View On WordPress

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. He is inside a horrendous political commercial full of loss and hate and barely disguised threats of rape and murder and corruption. He is a plate on the wall of the commercial watching the actors perform their lines. There is sport in forgetting the horrors. We are born in violence in the crucible of the powerful. The dead and the dying are the mulch for all tomorrows parties. The stars of sport jackhammer their fists into the faces of their lovers. A woman commits suicide by climbing into a crocodile pit. She takes off her shoes first. She loved her shoes and did not want them to be ruined by the prehistoric beasts. Who will get to keep the shoes afterwards. Will her relatives keep them in a box, uncleaned, perhaps a grass scuff on one corner from where she slipped them off on the wet ground. He reads about the Criminals of Wall Street and their desperate and ultimately successful attempts to save their kingdoms but not without first sacrificing some of their own. These perfidious knights see themselves as heroes even as the world is sickened by their villainy. He eats fried rice. He drinks coffee. He watches a talk that took place the day before the large climate change walk in New York. The speakers are Chris Hedges, Naomi Klein, Bill McKibben, Brian Lehrer, Kshama Sawant and Bernie Sanders. As Senator Bernard speaks protesters put up a cloth decrying Saunders voting for the bombing of Gaza. There is awkward murmuring. The audience is mostly white. He is happy when a bearded man stands up at the end and says he is sad that there are not more brothers and sisters of colour. The leader of the movement Bill Mckibben does not acknowledge this but deflects it as he tells the questioner to look outside tomorrow and to look at those at the frontline of the climate debate but he does not engage with the truth of the questioner at that particular moment.  America and secret allies start bombing Syria around 830 eastern time. This is half an hour in to The Voice. Someone is singing their heart out as enormous missiles smash into buildings as incredibly powerful ordnance cremates numberless human beings. The new acts are pretty good. Everyone trusts that no civilians are targeted. He feels sick. There is no criticism, no questioning. The Forever War. The Endless War. The Neverending War. Whatever it is called it is a hydra. Each war begetting a new war. Each murder creating two new murderers. And on and on and on. He watches Elementary. He eats food. He enjoys The Blacklist. It is utterly ridiculous. He snuggles. Obama is the War President. That Nobel Prize for peace must be in the attic of the White House slowly decaying into a puddle of shame. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There is a stench in the air. The stench of a Presidential Race. It is faint but unmistakable. Even as the US Midterms roll up over the horizon they are a sideshow to the main circus. He can see the tent-poles being set in the distance. He can feel the acrid reek in his nostrils already. It will not be pleasant but it will be fascinating. The Theater of Democracy. The Lie of Freedom.…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There is a stench in the air. The stench of a Presidential Race. It is faint but unmistakable. Even as the US Midterms roll up over the horizon they are a sideshow to the main circus. He can see the tent-poles being set in the distance. He can feel the acrid reek in his nostrils already. It will not be pleasant but it will be fascinating. The Theater of Democracy. The Lie of Freedom.…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. There is a stench in the air. The stench of a Presidential Race. It is faint but unmistakable. Even as the US Midterms roll up over the horizon they are a sideshow to the main circus. He can see the tent-poles being set in the distance. He can feel the acrid reek in his nostrils already. It will not be pleasant but it will be fascinating. The Theater of Democracy. The Lie of Freedom. The Illusion of Choice. Scotland has said no cowed by the overbearing power elite cowed by fear cowed by cows cow lowing in the fields eating grass and producing tasty milk and burgers. He tries to plan. He succeeds. He fails. He makes a coffee. He eats some breakfast. The pancakes for breakfast are tasty pancakes.  He ponders the future. He reads Pliny the Elder. He reads Too Big To Fail. All the criminals are here. They are all described in detail. Their actions and justifications are clear to see on the page. Bernie Madoff is their scapegoat. There are bigger problems. There is a climate march in New York City. Lots of people attend. Just like the March against the War in Iraq just like the March against the War in Iraq. Just like the March against the War in Vietnam. What do marches do except give the authorities the opportunity to observe the trouble makers and the peaceniks. To collate and photograph and store the information of the rebels, the subversives, the Anti-Americans ready to come to your door to take away your freedom  and your toaster stroodles and your playstation 4 and your Xbox 1 and your America’s Got Talent Voting rights. He fills boxes with books. He tries on his dainty new cock ring. It smarts. He has made a terrible mistake. Then he gets used to it. He likens it to the cilice from The DaVinci Code but not as unpleasant. There are many unpleasant things in the world. Human beings are sad hopeful creatures. He is one of them. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

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…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

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…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


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.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There is coffee. He is talking with an old lady about her manipulative grandchildren who know all the codes who have thousands of dollars in their bank accounts whose ages change from 8 to 10 to 19 to 18 depending on when he asks questions about them. He dreams about prostitutes who have all become fashion consultants. There is no more to the dream than that. He watches an interview…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. There is coffee. He is talking with an old lady about her manipulative grandchildren who know all the codes who have thousands of dollars in their bank accounts whose ages change from 8 to 10 to 19 to 18 depending on when he asks questions about them. He dreams about prostitutes who have all become fashion consultants. There is no more to the dream than that. He watches an interview…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. There is coffee. He is talking with an old lady about her manipulative grandchildren who know all the codes who have thousands of dollars in their bank accounts whose ages change from 8 to 10 to 19 to 18 depending on when he asks questions about them. He dreams about prostitutes who have all become fashion consultants. There is no more to the dream than that. He watches an interview with Eddy Conway ex of the Black Panthers. He watches a course on learning well. He procrastinates. He learns nothing from the course. He eats half a burger. He trims his prodigious beard. He cannot understand America without understanding race. He cannot understand the world without understanding race. He dreams about people who do not have eyes but have paintbrush bristles where there eyes should be an  no other features but that their faces smooth polished variegated wood their bodies entirely ordinary just their faces wooden and flat and their eyes tight paintbrush bristles they seem entirely okay with this state of affairs. There is no war just dropping bombs there is no war just talk of boots on the ground there is no conflict or war just targeted killings and advisors and regurgitated humanity spoiling in a heap. There is no war but there will be boots on the ground but there won’t be boots on the ground this is not a war this is not a war this is not a war. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He hears that there has been another decapitation. This time is is a British man. Next time there will be another British man. Then there will be more lined up heads rolling down the hill and soon decapitations will not make headlines because there will be so many of them. Then he makes some brownies. Then he eats some sushi. Then he walks. Then he lies down. There is rain outside.…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He hears that there has been another decapitation. This time is is a British man. Next time there will be another British man. Then there will be more lined up heads rolling down the hill and soon decapitations will not make headlines because there will be so many of them. Then he makes some brownies. Then he eats some sushi. Then he walks. Then he lies down. There is rain outside.…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. He hears that there has been another decapitation. This time is is a British man. Next time there will be another British man. Then there will be more lined up heads rolling down the hill and soon decapitations will not make headlines because there will be so many of them. Then he makes some brownies. Then he eats some sushi. Then he walks. Then he lies down. There is rain outside. It is coming down from the sky. There are clouds full of rain. There are clouds full of tears. Never trust a clown. He eats a tasty burger. He creates a fictional home in a digital town by the sea and spends too much time making the living room look just perfect when he doesn’t own a house in real life. He eats some lemon crunch pie. His digital avatar eats some lemon crunch pie. There is something terrible and sad about this. He forgets what happened during the rest of the day. His mind is a creamy white amnesiac cloud. He goes to sleep hoping that he will remember what he has forgotten and forget what he keeps remembering.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. President Obama has gone Liam Neeson on IS or ISIL or ISIS or whatever the gang of desert ne’er do wells are called. He is not sure that President Obama believes anything he says publicly anymore but he’s saying it he saying it again and again. He watches as the fear of ISIS grows and grows and grows and the news stories talk about the growing fears even as the CIA says again and…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. President Obama has gone Liam Neeson on IS or ISIL or ISIS or whatever the gang of desert ne’er do wells are called. He is not sure that President Obama believes anything he says publicly anymore but he’s saying it he saying it again and again. He watches as the fear of ISIS grows and grows and grows and the news stories talk about the growing fears even as the CIA says again and…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. President Obama has gone Liam Neeson on IS or ISIL or ISIS or whatever the gang of desert ne’er do wells are called. He is not sure that President Obama believes anything he says publicly anymore but he’s saying it he saying it again and again. He watches as the fear of ISIS grows and grows and grows and the news stories talk about the growing fears even as the CIA says again and again that there are no credible threats and when the CIA say there are no credible threats there are probably no credible threats because the CIA love having credible threats to get their black ops money for and are always willing to talk about threats so even if they don’t think that they are a threat then are they a threat. He does not know. Then he gets angry because Cecily Strong is being kicked off Weekend Update because no one wants to kick the White coiffed head writer off Weekend Update because the white man always wins even though her replacement is the excellent Michael Che but why not have Michael Che and Cecily Strong is it because Lorne Michaels thinks that America is not ready for a black man and a white woman to appear together on live television doing comedy together week in and week out is america still terrified of a black man and a white woman making comedy together is this where we are have we not moved on he thinks to himself. Then he plans his lunch. Then he goes to the gym. Then he showers. Then he wonders if Ted Cruz’s strange argument that Lorne Michaels could be in prison for satire if a law limiting Citizens United comes into affect is a real argument or if Senator Ted Cruz is actually an apolitical performance artist who managed to get elected with grant money from a billionaires art foundation. It is a hot muggy night. He sits in Wholefoods and joins the other hairy homeless men in the pot plants and the dirty tables. He holds hands. He goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. Trembling muscles dripping off bone. He farts what feels like his body volume in gas. His alarm goes of too early. He is fat. He is fatter than he has ever been. The bus is on time. He gets on the bus. Two people in front of him fiddle with money and change and it annoys him that they knew that they did not have passes but did not think that it was required of them to wait until all…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. Trembling muscles dripping off bone. He farts what feels like his body volume in gas. His alarm goes of too early. He is fat. He is fatter than he has ever been. The bus is on time. He gets on the bus. Two people in front of him fiddle with money and change and it annoys him that they knew that they did not have passes but did not think that it was required of them to wait until all…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. Trembling muscles dripping off bone. He farts what feels like his body volume in gas. His alarm goes of too early. He is fat. He is fatter than he has ever been. The bus is on time. He gets on the bus. Two people in front of him fiddle with money and change and it annoys him that they knew that they did not have passes but did not think that it was required of them to wait until all those who had passes to get on the bus first so that they could get seats like him so he could get a seat he finally gets a seat. He keeps his anger inside. He buys some granola bars. He buys a sandwich. He does not by a Jimmy Dean Breakfast Biscuit. He marks this as a rare triumph in a day which will not have many victories. He gets sucked back into Facebook. He drinks too much coffee. He eats a sandwich. He buys some smoothies and puts them in the fridge. He eats lentils which taste like glorious meat and roasted cauliflower which tastes like magic. Stephen Colbert will gurn around with Henry Kissinger tonight and his heart will die a little and he will lose a little more respect for Stephen Colbert. It is the day of the towers falling it is the day of a country backed turned over to a dictator who manipulated and destroyed his people with the Chicago Boys and Kissinger looming and death squads and disappearances and the chimneys spewing people and death and sadness and the clouds formed and burrowed and the igition of the 21st century the pilot light that sparked the fire the engulfed the world that killed an Empire that doesn’t know it’s dead yet as a far older and larger beast slowly turns and wakes and watches. Then he tumbles down a hill tumbling tumbling tumbling and Oscar Pistorius is not guilty of murder but who knows what will happen tomorrow and there is 911 and 911 and 911 and each 911 has a different meaning and significance but they are all important and Jaws is dead and he goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He watches Brian Williams rubs shafts with Matt Lauer. They spar. They spar verbally. There is tension and shark smiling. He wonders if Isis is just the ASL ice bucket challenge gone horribly wrong. Nominations for Saladin, Ishmael and Frank-n-Furter. George W Bush and Bill Clinton are now best friends. He is sick in his mouth. Power accretes power. An NFP football player is…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. He watches Brian Williams rubs shafts with Matt Lauer. They spar. They spar verbally. There is tension and shark smiling. He wonders if Isis is just the ASL ice bucket challenge gone horribly wrong. Nominations for Saladin, Ishmael and Frank-n-Furter. George W Bush and Bill Clinton are now best friends. He is sick in his mouth. Power accretes power. An NFP football player is…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. He watches Brian Williams rubs shafts with Matt Lauer. They spar. They spar verbally. There is tension and shark smiling. He wonders if Isis is just the ASL ice bucket challenge gone horribly wrong. Nominations for Saladin, Ishmael and Frank-n-Furter. George W Bush and Bill Clinton are now best friends. He is sick in his mouth. Power accretes power. An NFP football player is suspended when a video appears of him punching his fiancee. Even though they knew he did it he only got two game suspension because they hadn’t seen it. A reflection of what is important. Money, profit, optics. The optics are wrong. No matter the ethics no matter the morality. At least Mel Brooks is still alive. They didn’t see it. So it doesn’t exist. He didn’t see the moon landings so they can’t be real. He didn’t see his own birth so he didn’t believe it. He didn’t see the bus arrive so he doesn’t believe that it got here. He didn’t see the formation of the continents so he does not believe that they exist. He cannot see oxygen so he is not sure that he is breathing it. He has never seen the earth from space so he doesn’t believe the world is a sphere zipping through space. He watches food commercials he watches car commercials. All using fear and doubt. Be afraid America. Be afraid. Stop thinking America don’t worry that your heroes are weak tired hypocrits. Liars and cheaters and brutish billionaires. Better than Hippo Crits. River creatures reviewing popular culture. Maybe not better than Hippo Crits. He watches Simon Critchley and Cornell West talking. They are talking about religion and violence. He listens to John Pilger. He listens to Noam Chomsky. It is one of those kinds of days. Richard Branson is an odd looking man. Sometimes it’s okay to give up your dreams. You won’t die. The Queen of the United kingdom is worried about Scotland. The economist Paul Krugman is worried about Scotland. This maybe the only time they will be worried about the same thing. He thinks more about an idea he has. He thinks that it is a good idea and the he thinks it’s a bad idea. He is undecided. Angry atheists make him sad. Happy Christians make him cringe. He listens to Cspan. It is both uplifting and depressing. Imaginary People think Obama is a Child Eating Muslim Jewish Atheist Christian Kenyan Communist Socialist. These people have access to the same information as everyone else and also the right to vote. The anniversary of 911 is approaching. The day that Pinochet stole Chile and also the day that planes hit the twin towers in New York and today is Zeinab Badawi interogating John Mccain by the lake that Amidala and Anakin Skywalker fell in love. Today is Scotland divorcing itself from Britain as Britain first acts like a violent lover bullying Scotland to stay with threats and violence and then begging Scotland to stay with gifts and bouquets of power it all looks very embarassing and no one has really planned for the split. Then he eats some rice it is a lot of rice and it has vegetables with it and also tomato sauce and he finds a bag of almonds and he books a flight to London and London terrifies him already he hears the pulsing wet beat of it’s corrupt blackened heart in his ears as he feels himself being sucked back into the pit the comforting embrace of the oily pit. Then he plays Tiny Death Star. It is an awful game that has no other point than to teach children that the most soulless parts of capitalism are compelling and entertaining taught through the lens of the Star Wars universe. He is hopelessly addicted to it and then he watches America’s Got Talent and the sound disappears for the last act so only atmospheric cheering can be heard. It is like watching television in a dream and then he cuddles and then he goes to sleep.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. When he went to sleep there was no caliphate. There no chance that there was going to be an independent Scotland. There was no new royal baby in Britain ready to carry on the democratic bloodline of the German Royal Family. He wakes up unaware of all of these things. The plane that crashed in the ocean is still missing and Robin Williams is dead and Joan Rivers is dead and lots of…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. When he went to sleep there was no caliphate. There no chance that there was going to be an independent Scotland. There was no new royal baby in Britain ready to carry on the democratic bloodline of the German Royal Family. He wakes up unaware of all of these things. The plane that crashed in the ocean is still missing and Robin Williams is dead and Joan Rivers is dead and lots of…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. When he went to sleep there was no caliphate. There no chance that there was going to be an independent Scotland. There was no new royal baby in Britain ready to carry on the democratic bloodline of the German Royal Family. He wakes up unaware of all of these things. The plane that crashed in the ocean is still missing and Robin Williams is dead and Joan Rivers is dead and lots of other people are dead but they aren’t famous. He wonders if waking up is ever worth it. He decides it is but he goes back to sleep anyway.

Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. The world is not going well. There is lots of violence. Someone stands up for gentrification without thinking about what that might mean why it might be better to help those communities with their problems rather than price them out of their homes and their lives so that rich white people can enjoy atmosphere ambience authenticity at jacked up prices the prison is being crushed…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.

He wakes up. The world is not going well. There is lots of violence. Someone stands up for gentrification without thinking about what that might mean why it might be better to help those communities with their problems rather than price them out of their homes and their lives so that rich white people can enjoy atmosphere ambience authenticity at jacked up prices the prison is being crushed…

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Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.


He wakes up. The world is not going well. There is lots of violence. Someone stands up for gentrification without thinking about what that might mean why it might be better to help those communities with their problems rather than price them out of their homes and their lives so that rich white people can enjoy atmosphere ambience authenticity at jacked up prices the prison is being crushed schools crushed the slow creeping inevitability of colonisation colonization soon they will all be gone and dust and forgotten and a sad story in the endnote of a book that no one reads in a library that is on fire. Then he plays Tiny Death Star which is very cute but bespeaks the joys of a totalitarian capitalocracy underpinned with violence and surveillance. It’s insidious message is not missed by him but he just can’t stop playing it. Elsewhere a city crumbles. Somewhere else talking heads bob and weave and duck and dive. In yet still other places someone is masturbating to a picture they found in a puddle. There is excrement everywhere. Someone is wearing a pair of wellington boots. Other people don’t know what wellington boots are. Someone stubs their toe. Someone else is decapitated. He reads Bossypants by Tina Fey. It is hilarious. He reads it out loud and laughs aloud. He rants about an app that encourages mariginalisation of people of color. He rants about a white supremacist technocracy. He has a nap. He rants about those who can’t see the problems with gentrification. He rants. He rents. He runts. He grunts. He tires and eats a pizza and has a glass of elderflower cider. It is tasty. He goes to sleep.