Solstice in Arizona means the dawn starts extending her rosy fingers around four in the morning. It is 5AM and I am wide awake; I am ready for the day.

Today’s dastardly gay agenda consists of going to the gym, tidying up the backyard, working on a Spo-shirt for Kelly S., and (wait for it!) homework. It leaves the day – gasp ! – open with lots of free time, unorganized and uninspired.

Americans are becoming more and more suspicious and uncomfortable with deemed lack of activity. Every waking moment has to be assigned and orderly. It sounds superficially Swiss and therefore charming, but there is a sinister element to it which makes this a fool’s gold.  Being idle used to be sign of gentility; now it is judged slothful, and worse, meaningless.

I may have ants-in-the-pants-hard-to-sit-still wiring, but that isn’t the same thing as an external ‘You should be doing something!”. As the pace of America accelerates I plan to slow down, taking pleasure in the fact I can smell the roses and in the passive-aggressive delight the demonic drivers have to drive around me.

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