A Harmonica, or A Calendar

You expect life to contain its own magic. You want to reach into it and pull out, I don't know, a... calendar, or a harmonica. But no, it just lies there.

Or lays there, in the current idiom. The idioms, and the situation, had Flaubert shouting "Oh I'm so disgusted by everything!" But then the stout fellow says, "The principal thing in this world is to keep one's soul aloft."

Which is why I need my Rhodes, my character. Right? I mean, he will find his way to transcendence.

Oh, when will we hear from him?