Bored of Fragments

Arrived home last night at 2:00AM.  I had told someone: “I land in two hours.  We can talk then. . .”   But when I landed he only had ten minutes and we’d just as soon pick it up tomorrow.  Relief at 1:30AM.  No really.  I was looking forward to it.

In the refrigerator, there wasn’t much.  I’d had an airline dindin but not much of it.  It wasn’t any good.  The airline saw fit to give me a funny piece of chicken in a role.  I disposed of the unappetizing roll and ate the unappetizing chicken.  Home at last, Odysseus reached for the refrigerator door handle, hopefully . . . no.  There must be some cheddar cheese in the door.  There is none.  Had I been starving, I would be been quite content.  There certainly was food.  Merely hungry I was gravely disappointed.  There’s some old, dry feta, two trays down.  I cut a block off and fit it into my mouth with a handful of raisins to complement the chalky taste.

Penelope was in “my” chair.  She was watching a Chinese drama on “my” computer.  The drama was set in a modern Chinese office.  That now means something.  “You see who that is?  She asked.  I didn’t recognize anyone on the screen.  She told me.  And I nodded, dutifully.  Watching for a while, I tried my best to follow the plot.  Some degree of context was obvious.  Passion.  Intrigue.  Mystery.  Release. Fragments and soon I’m bored of fragments

This morning I read about one scandal after another.  Everyone is being exposed as something all too human.  I try to find something else to read but so many stories seem to be devoted to this topic and this topic only. I can’t stop though.  After I’ve looked at my hometown Times and the video clip besotted Huffington post, I consider what the Wall Street Journal then Slate, then Jeff’s Washington Post.  I can’t get enough and I move on to Jack’s South China Morning Post.  And each home page leaves me thinking, “I already know.”

Friday, 11/17/17