Clear as Puddles When Stepped In with Muddy Galoshes

How I envy normal people. People who call radio stations to enter competitions, who fetch their kids from school and eat sugared cereals, people who have real jobs in banks and gyms and law firms. I’ve always felt like I was floating somewhere to the left of them, somehow removed from the forward swooshing of real life. I learned very young to Act As If. Act As If you care what the footy score is. Act As If you’re talking to this man because you’re interested in his theory on why reality TV will never last, when all you’re wondering about is whether he’s a slippery fuck, the kind who seems to leak sperm through his every pore.

I keep questioning whether moving to Australia was some horrible mistake that I should have extricated myself from years ago and am now too far gone to remedy.

And I watched The Apprentice. It must be cool to be as sure of things as Donald Trump appears to be. Clarity, no matter how misguided, must be wonderful.