life is a bowl of cherry

he had barely embarked on the impossible task of deciding which cereal to buy when it occurred to him. having run out of dried-berry low-fat granola at 7:58am pea es tea(aka pee es tee, pea es tee, pee es tea, etc.) he had raised the priority level of a trip to tj's in his mental taskbar to 'do it now or die somehow' on the ride back home. he wore his red shorts and stepped into his comfy flip flops, popped some meditative tunes into his life's soundtrack player and beamed himself to aisle four, ignoring everything else including the savory thins. last time it had taken him an average of twenty minutes per trip when he finally managed to pick one on his third in four consecutive days.

life is a bowl of cereal and the events it entails. it's strawberries and a phone call. it's crunchy nuts and a deadline coming up. it's a bowl of muesli and yet another boring day. it's a bowl of anything but chocolate puffs, followed by anything but sanity.

then he lost focus somewhere in the midst of thinking about adjectives for bowls of cereal. why does a stupid cereal matter when women were beaten up on the streets of his hometown the other day or when someone's father passed away or when someone needs money for rent. why does anything matter? what matters?

then he lost his senses and stared at the woman in front of him. she smiled and apologized for blocking his view, conveniently ignoring the very obvious fact that she was the view.

then he went back home and did some homework. then he watched a show. then he read some with half a bottle of cheap wine.

then he went out for more beers. then he laughed at his ex-colleague's lame old jokes and shared some of his own. then he had sex. no not the colleague; he.

then he woke up and went to his bowl of cereal at work, and more events unfolded in his daily meaningless life. who needs meaning anyways. words make the greatest facade for misery. words are good. life is good. it's all good.