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My Busy Day

By Paul Ford

I have so much to do (includes pictures).

I sometimes receive e-mail that asks, "Who are you? What is this? I am from Sweden."

I understand the curiousity. "Paul Ford" could be a well-published author hiding behind a pseudonym. I could be a handsome Internet entrepreneur taking time off between deals, or I might be an artificially intelligent Web-searching tool run amok.

Of course, I am none of these things. To stop the rampant speculation, and to stem the flood of e-mail, I've decided to share with you an illustrated essay about my busy daily life.

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8 AM

Good morning! After my shower, I sit on the edge of my bed and put on my socks. Between the left and right sock, I invariably enter into a moment of deep consideration about my existence. Sometimes, thinking about what could happen in the next 14 hours, I excitedly begin to rock side-to-side.

On the day this picture was taken, I felt very confident that I would be able to get fresh, juicy persimmons at the supermarket, and then make love to them. The expectation made me rock all the harder.

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9 AM

When I'm rocked out, I go to my altar, which I made from vacuum tubes and cigar boxes. There, I offer my thanks to God for for the good things that have come my way. This is a picture of the altar, which rests above a small wooden pedestal.

Today, I thanked God for my two marvelous cats, Otar and Buboe.

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10 AM

Then, because I only have one lung, I spend a full hour in breathing therapy, inflating and deflating a plastic bag.

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11:30 AM

At around 11:30, the door opens. I already know who it is....

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11:35 AM

It's my neighbor Marty, who died in 1994, but was cursed to walk the streets of Brooklyn until he redeems himself in the eyes of God. At least half of the people in my building are the living dead.

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11:50 AM

"Butar erbla," says Marty, grabbing my shoulder with filthy, 4-inch orange fingernails. That's his way of asking me to release his soul from the miserable hell of earthly bondage. I explain, for the 400th time, that it is beyond my power to free him from this plane.

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12 PM

He appears angry, and I fear another of his brutal beatings, but today he only turns and walks out of the apartment. I should just lock my door, but he simply kicks it in.

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2 PM

As I wrote above, I own two cats, Otar and Buboe, and I've trained them to stand on their hind legs and play ping-pong across a tiny table. Here I am watching them in a dead heat, right before Buboe scored the game point. When the game ended, I sent them to the shower to clean up, and did some work branding and naming Internet startups. Then I wrote corporate biographies for a consultancy firm.

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5 PM

Dinnertime! For dinner, I usually go out to the back yard and grab a mole or opossum, then devour it live. Here, I am eating a large, still-kicking mole, swallowing it in one gulp.

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7 PM

Then, Otar, Buboe, and I watch 4 consecutive hours of cat pornography and drink cat beer. Here I am at 11 PM, taking in the end of "Pussy Heat 9: Unspayed." I usually want to watch C-Span, but they invariably vote me down.

Right before bed, I write an Ftrain essay in about 15 minutes. Then it's time to sleep.

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That's a typical day for the fellow behind Ftrain.
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See also: How to put a whole harmonica in your mouth.

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