Strange Days
The people who use the internet at the public library are strange. Of course, some of them are homeless, but even those who appear to have permanent dwellings are odd. If a person makes an appointment to use a computer at the library, then obviously they find significant utility in the device. This being the case, why do they not own one themselves? Because in one way or another, there is something wrong with them. I can't say what, every case is different, but all such creatures must have some fundamental personal flaw which prevents them from possessing the worldly objects which they acknowledge themselves they have need of. I usually distinguish myself from this group simply by the fact that I wear clean clothes, but the basic truth is undeniable: we are the dregs of post-modern society. My condition being as such, these blog posts may become more infrequent and less predictable in the coming months. My summer is an unfolding mystery and I may not get to the keyboard as often as I would like.
So what should I do with myself now? I think i might go to McDonald's and get a McRib since it's back! and since it inspired the Simpsons to do a parody of Requiem for A Dream when Homer takes a bite of a Krusty Burger "rib" sandwich causing his pupils to dilate and his arteries to fill with, i suppose, barbecue sauce. Or I could go to a local emergency room and pretend to have pnuemonic plague.
When I was in the library last week, and I could neither conceive of nor serendipitously encounter a book that would pique my interest I thought, "well, maybe I'll just write a book." Oh yeah, that's a solution. I'm sure that's how Marcel Proust got started: he couldn't find a book he wanted to read so he said, "hey, you know what, I'll just write a three volume masterpiece. Yeah, that'll pass the time."
Maybe I'll just get some sleep. But first, McRib. Wait, wait there go my pupils.
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