Two days in a row the Mastodon has run. This is a streak, folks. It makes him feel good; awake and enthused. The young mammal has also been doing a great job lately of kicking the narcotics and barbituates to the curb. This is an exemplary feat, and one that fills the AM with pride, as he has always considered himself a drug-free sort of animal. Even in the throes of his more addled stages, when the brown bag was never far from his snout and the track marks could be seen through even the thickest of fur, the AM still deluded himself by claiming that he was a 'tinkerer' rather than a user or, worse, an abuser. But the skies are blue again and the only drug he's had as of late is love; your love, my sweets.
So, either way you line up the cue ball, the 'Don feels top-notch about life and its prospects. Not that he believes his life provides any spectacular prospects; the notion of being an outstanding human capable of great and audacious things is a concept the AM has merrily consented to relinquish. Much like the protagonist of Walker Percy's The Moviegoer, whose primary ambitions in life were to make a little pile of money and then, after the day is done, make love to his secretaries, the AM feels that the crumpled rug of life holds mysteries and prospects greater than we know, and sometimes it's better to stumble upon them than to prod ceaselessly along hunting for them.
Indeed, some of life's greatest ambitions are far from lofty. How do you think the AM got here?