Nobody cares what I had for breakfast, eh? Here's a hundred tangents. I care, I eat to live. I don't understand face-saving. Less do I understand obsteperousness. Let's have a confrontation! For fun? Remember those games shape your mind, they affect your body. Pulse rate, synaptic configuration, behave yourself! How about this... nobody cares what I think. Facts are facts, bully pundit. Do I think? What is this 'I' that's supposed to be thinking? By the way, fuck Descartes. Did I mention might be some adult language? Oopsie, PARENTAL ADVISORY. But really,his mind body dualism has done as much to damage the western mind as judaism and her idiot children. Do I sound confrontational? I think that is a matter of interpretation. My choice of words could be more politic but then I wouldn't be me. And the assertion that positing some difference between that which eats, breathes and shits and that which thinks and feels is mental illness can be supported. The assertion that nobody cares what you had for breakfast can not. Cognitive psychology versus sweeping generalization. It's nice to have time to think. Although I spend most of it making noise. Still I think about what the next noise might be. And you know what good ol' Renee was up to at that moment? He was trying to form aphorisms from which he could prove the existence of the sky god, as best as I can ascertain. What a waste. Believe, don't believe, entirely up to you. But don't try to apply the scientific method to that NOMA or you will wind up with precepts that fuck people up so badly they hate their bodies or think there's something unknowable about their own minds. Psychosomatic illness indeed. Let's talk about Freud. Okay, let's not waste any more time on that. I'm married now, we'll talk about it soon. I hope you had a tasty breakfast. I had a German meusli called 'tropical' we got in town at one of those big expensive farang markets because you can't get cereal or decent bread anywhere else, I preferred the other flavor, whatever it was called but they didn't have anymore so I tried tropical, not bad but no nuts for some reason, and I had papaya juice cut with soda because that's how I take my juice and I had a couple of cups of that lovely coffee like substance they put in little plastic tutbular envelopes, it's at least two thirds sugar and creamer, hopefully not the carcinogenic variety, my cigarettes are enough thank you, and I suffer this glop even though Steven gave me a coffee maker for my birthday because Chicken bought it for me despite my instructions that I'd start using the machine after the move but mai penrai, it doesn't taste BAD, and today Kemmy performed the dumping of the envelope into the water ceremony which was pretty cool, a three year old kid made less of a mess of it than his thirty-eight year old step-dad usually does.
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