<< Synapse to Synapse | Main | Fiction Afterwards >> November 05, 2006 >> November Slims Water in the morning tastes terrible - that glass you left beside the bed last night is full of bubbles (carbonation? what the hell is that?) and it goes down like a punch in the throat. People will often surprise you in conversation by being exactly, 100% what you expected of them. And then you say "Oh..." because that means a mission. That means it's your mission to be increasingly bizarre until you elicit a reaction that is no longer predictable. And sometimes this means talking about pyromania and tasty babies. If you can't get something interesting out of that, you're beating a dead horse (baby?) and should get the hell out of there ASAP. This person is an emotionally dead sociopath. One reason why people might not act like kids anymore - find their 'inner child' - is that we were so goddamned dirty back then. I spent an entire subway ride trying to shake dead leaves and sticks out of my hair and jacket while people looked at me like I was homeless. I have a home, people! I HAVE A HOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!! I just saw a leaf pile on my way back there. Posted by Chris at 01:20 PM >> Commentations (7)
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