on the subject of vanity i have spent this holiday without my watch on because i didn’t want that butters white stripe round my wrist. it has meant relying on wall clocks for the time of which there are very few on the beach. i was in the gym getting my vain on and my veins up when i noticed a clock on the wall behind me in the mirror. and sink it with a putt i could not for the life of me work out what the time was. reading the time in a mirror is like learning all over. noting that the big hand is past the 9 and the little one just before the 3. now tell me what time it is without thinking. before feeling waves of sadness at only seeing the olympics of my country from other countries i looked at the tv and noticed the arms on the gymnast. they’re all tricep those gymnasts. that’s what every suburban gym goer misses when he’s looking in the mirror at the pump. it’s all about the tricep for that michelangelo sculpting. i tried my triceps but there was nothing there but a sick feeling. then my ambition for body fought with thirst and lost like the nigerian basketball team. before long i was back at the bar on my third whiskey sour