This opinion from a teatime chitchat, featuring Monsieur Paranoid, against a setting of bar bells, cafe mocha, and an assortment of southie sweets. Monologues and dialogues. Metaphysics and porn. Confucius and Priya Rai. Stoicism and solipsism. Morality, perverse gods, hollow ideals. [I believe much of this has been the staple of all smalltalk since the past century - there needs be some research to confirm that. Though I wonder why, even after centuries of evolution, silence isn't yet in vogue; feels like the cowboys had something going right] Anything to pry open the metaphoric "shell".
Sleep has been the other detail in this day worth a mention. I slept. Yes, just that.
I was ditched in my proposed adventure by somebody, which started things on a dull note for the day, and kept it that way through it. Zipping through the 8AM cold. Ambiguous identification. Staring, scribbling, being nice. Overcooked noodles.
Life inside a video game.
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