Nude

No one was in the apartment late this afternoon except me. I'd had a tough day dealing with people who have Incompetent as a middle name and Utterly as their first name (their surname is not fit for public consumption). I felt like nothing could pick me up from the doldrums of stupid-person fatigue. So I just took all my clothes off and made some flapjacks. It was a liberation of sorts, just being in the body, without textile encumbrance. I understood enfin why Fela spent so much time just wearing underpants - why else do you need to wear anything in a sultry country? Plus it feels sexy. I added peanuts to the flapjack mixture (my little tip), and used maple syrup instead of boring non-maple syrup. I'd had the song Nature Boy in my sub-conscious all day (it was on at the Bank this morning, though not my favourite Benson version). I couldn't help singing along while queuing. Just moments later on my way out, some schlemiel pushed in front of the queue to get past the electronic door system. Everyday this week one Nigerian or other has bumped some queue I'm in, which I take to be the height of uncivilised behaviour. I had to strain with every sinew not to grab hold of him and start swearing down his ears. I'm so deeply unBuddhist sometimes I can't understand why I'd ever describe myself as such.

Still, as a new friend said today, at least your human. My reply: at most, I'm human.