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The trees outside look dull and generally unimpressed with the rigorous task of living. Beyond the gaudy pleather curtains that mask our living room (and the debauchery within), the world seems to say "Ho hum, Waterloo fucking sucks. Who wants to go to the arboretum?" And then the world laughs, because nobody wants to go to the arboretum. Ever.

I feel that you should know our TV set looks somewhat like an alien transmitter. Three orange light bulbs sit symmetrically above the screen, ugly trophies from a joyous time long past. When the sunlight blasts through the pleather drapes and hits the bulbs just right, the ensuing light-show signifies that our TV shows are being beamed in from some Faraway place.

We disconnect the cable.

In Faraway Canada, the Faraway equivilent of Belinda Stronach just saved the ruling body of Faraway bipeds with one (very sexy) vote of confidence. That reminds me, I wonder what happened in the real vote this afternoon? Guess I'll never know, since our television set has been hijacked by cosmic media sluts!

We look at the cable, unscrewed, sitting pretty beside the Queen of Spades.

Oh wait a sec. The weather is dull and the lightbulbs are bleeding paint, certainly nowhere near the level of incandescence necessary for extraterrestrial TV. Fuck. I even told you that, way back. Consideration. It would appear that I was just watching the REAL Belinda Stronach maintain the REAL Canadian government. Not Faraway. Not different. Well. Hmm. That's pretty boring.

We reconnect the cable. Everything in the world except me and a dwindling number of arboretums fades to black.

Posted by Chris at 06:33 PM >> Commentations (1)