Like trying to sympathise with a moron or what I mean is trying to tell a moron how to be sympathetic, more so, simply explaining how it could be possible that their so obvious lack of spatial awareness could cause so much grievance…! Well, these things are but a simple fact of life for the poor writer. Who me? Oh so you’ve noticed you are reading. Please don’t make me come over there (like a threat from both the voice in your head and/or a person writing is any kind of threat…far from it, it is an ominous thing that you may be aware of or I should probably have not made you aware of). Okay so it’s funny, think of this: these are words you are reading, in your own voice, right, and writers can have you think/process/deal with various things, and even try to tell you things so that it will seem like you are telling them to yourself and after, say, a sentence (read: full stop) is when you’ll have the chance to internally again think ‘fuck off’ or ‘hey yeah’ without even worrying with the normal human interaction thing of caring about your facial expression or being able to look someone in the eye and agree. So, okay this has all happened in your head so far. Without being too oblique/egotistical obloobaboogabah! Ok, sorry. Just to hear yourself say that at this point…ummm, okay (that’s me you hear but I am not here…arrrrgh, okay).
Sorry. That is really off track. I am back talking to you, okay? I promise. None if this ‘make you aware that I am aware that you are aware’ stuff. Well I’ll try.
The moron. He has learned how to repeat the phrases of those he loves. He does it day-to-day, of course yes, and then, when he is talking to his mother, he has changed, but of course, being ill-equipped to understand the ways in which he has changed his mother’s[1] confusing sentences that question his new found ‘wisdom’-esque ideologies make no sense. He knows he is always improving, not knowing that his technique or absorption is not improving but a replacement for actual improving, imagine: a soul that is moulded like clay (perhaps there is a type of religion where this is the ideal?). So do you have someone in your head yet? Sorry, don’t forget I’m talking to you(rself). And our feelings towards that person…ummm, I don’t really want to tell you how to feel.
I don’t want to dislike this person, you know it’s like, what makes me so good to think like this?
Who is talking? Reading or thinking? My voice is my own (in your voice). I like the head voice; I want to talk to it not just, oh god, be it for a few moments.
The eyes. That’s where it is. You want to reach in and shake them by their heart and have them stop talking so much about vacuous things like interest rates or TV or whatever the hell else they’re talking about (cars, sorry, I forgot cars) so that they can just forget about these, I don’t know, attributes. Attributes? Imagine if they could all know about marketing, advertising…how the best brains are being coopted into persuading you to ‘be cool’ or ‘want’ etc. So hilarious. Okay, a test is needed because even you are not believing (and even if you are this will be fun. Yes I’m telling you, god! Arrogant?…please, find out before you judge. No I love you…stop reading!):
If the writer could recreate that magic from earlier where he was able to both talk to you and have you talk to yourself, remember? Of course you do. Okay so now who is doing the telling. I can hear myself referencing myself. I love my voice and I am the only one here. In that ad I saw…write three paragraphs on that.
My voice sounds weird in my own head and if I was to read it like this not knowing where it’s going or even really now knowing if I talk like that then that is weird. In my head I am in my head. Do I know about this moron thing that’s supposed to be happening?
Stop questioning, I’m trying to tell you but I’m being really distracted by the whole talk to me talk to you thing. No I’m not trying to do it again, god. Okay. Off track. I was talking to this moron and it was so easy to implant ideologies in there, but, like all prophets (!) I know my words are ridiculously brief. This moron will probably scratch his neck hair and already forget all the good I tried to achieve in my five minutes cigarette break. Hey, even though he gave me free cigarette doesn’t mean I didn’t give something in return i.e. WISDOM. Come on!
You have the person now, right? You can see him, or possibly her. And what are you thoughts? Oh god, stop it…ha! That’s terrible but of course we can all agree. Here’s why:
In every workplace there is a Neanderthal. What it wants is always so obvious. FRIENDS. “Be My Friend” it says, moving about areas such a thing is not designated to be in. DRINK? Of course, three thick beers down, the hair on its forehead somehow already glistening with some liquid (I am remiss to believe as sweat in these 22º surroundings). As a moron some kind hearted colleagues try to befriend it only to to discover the repulsive (read: public spitting/urinating) aspects of this quote unquote harmless guy, which they forthwith discard or at the most humane pack into a taxi cab for expulsion towards it’s home (or more accurately simply away from all of us, okay, fuck!).
I wouldn’t do that. I am better than this writer…fucking wanker. Thinks he is better than someone having a good time.
I don’t know what to believe anymore. You turned on me. Yet if you want to find out what happened to that dumb drunk ugly Neanderthal read on. Otherwise, listen to that voice in your head who thinks I am an asshole and doesn’t want to be talked to or involved anymore. Warning: you will be involved, no matter how bad you think I am laying out the story/personality. Okay?
I made a mistake. I forgot to say that all humans have a place in the world, if only for the fact that they exist and that you have to have them and, I don’t know, work around them? No, that’s terrible. Okay, um, see them and then, yes, I forgot, help them. I only have maybe ten minutes a day where I have a chance (it could be more but as you know – talking to you now- know, that’s a long time right). It involves mainly listening and then having maybe two or three sentences to influence, after, what, nine or twelve sentences of complacent agreement lines. So you are helping, or more accurately trying to educate. And after all the racism and generalities and car-part conversation what do you know you have achieved?
Better luck next time.
[1] Or anyone else close enough to comment such things as “what? who are you?”
