You know what? Silk-screened tie on t-shirt. Oaken desk that’s just as good as marble. Adornments and ornamentations of “doing well”. Golden affectations and big sky and landscape, skyscraper building silhouettes; The New York City office. Where the corner walls just look out at snow and smoke and little insignificants scurrying like ants. He’s in his white collar shirt, sleeves rolled up, arm muscles bulging. It’s going to be a long night. What to do when the money don’t make sense, when the stock market doesn’t add up? We weave these webs upon ourselves and then cannot find a way out. Spider spins and dances, crackling on a radio frequency. As our lives hurtle through pure human chaos that can only be exemplified through Wizard of Oz twister dream sequences. Because the truth is we are all Judy Garland with ruby slippers on. The power and the helplessness, the ability to ask questions, to success and fail. These truths get hammered home, but my head hurts. Tile floor in the bathroom has known many footsteps and telephone secrets. Vomit stained sink porcelain that is cleaned up before the sun rises. Mad Men interiors. Crisp new shirt still in its plastic, straight from the drawer.