He wakes up... Day One of the Rebrand. He is no longer gonna be '24 hours of... whatever', but instead '24hOuRs of nON-sTop WhaTEvEr!!!'

Day Twelve of the Rebrand. He sits up in bed. His life is a whirlpool. He can't understand how it all changed so quick... Right from Day One. He wants to shrug and go 'Whatever'. He can't.

The problem with associating outside of the sphere of isolation is he always winds up with a threaded needle running through hopes and hearts of the monotoned crowd of the hopefuls. A little tug and the tears run. A little too much stillness and they creep closer, till they are on the needle impaled.

He sighs. 'What now, fellow, conspirators in the rebrand?'

He is tired of being Monos, the bringer of pain, oft in the arms of Melpomene. Yet, he sees no escape, he must either fulfill his demi-god responsibility in dark rich laughter, or withdraw from the rebrand... from the circles that reach out to him... back into himself... back into solitude, silence, misery. From where he bring no pain, no heart break... so he thinks