18th May 2014

I go into a giant casino, full of roulette tables and machines with bright flashing lights that make loud noises.   I sit down in a waiting room area and read a magazine.  There is a feature on Sienna Miller.  The interviewer writes, ‘One shy man,’ and ‘she puts her stiletto shoe forward in an artful manner.’  The pictures accompanying the article are terrible.  Sienna looks so old and wrinkled, like a seventy year old.  The photographer has accentuated how much she has aged rather than airbrushed it.   Her skin is golden brown and scored with lines, saggy and shiny.  I am fascinated, and secretly a little pleased.  Her new film is called, ‘I’m so lonesome I could cry’ and I know this is familiar to me, but I can’t remember what it means.  The girl next to me gives me a piece of blue cake so that I can remember.  I realise it is a Hank Williams song and I start singing the first line, ‘I hear that lonesome whippoorwill’.  I go out of the casino into the car park to find my colleagues.  We drive along a motorway through the desert at dusk.  The colours are very vivid, the desert an unnatural yellow, the sky almost purple.  I look up and an aeroplane is flying low across the sky and on top of it there is a giant monster, half komodo dragon, half snake that is being smuggled into America.  I talk to my colleague about the problem of childhood obesity and she points to a brown leather sofa at the edge of the motorway where the most famous obese kid in America is sitting.  He goes there every day to eat sugary foods and be seen by the passersby.