to be sincerely and passionately engaged in culture

sometimes I wish I were more, and don’t think I am enough. The inner workings of my own mind, however, remain endlessly fascinating. Oh I did not just think that, I often think to myself, chuckling. And then I said what?! Oh I didn’t! But I did. What happened in my dream? I know!

The loud conversations of the people who gather on the balconies of the apartments near mine though, I find less interesting than things I’m not interested in, and actaully are beginning to piss me off. “Someone was having a party here last night!” I bitched to my sister. “Where was it?” she asked. “Seemingly in every apartment but ours.” In my fantasy I lean out the window and manage to catch the attention of some drunken buttplug. “Excuse me, hi, normally I wouldn’t complain about your little fest, as I too am someone who enjoys revelry and regularly vomits from overindulgance of alcohol– that’s how fucking FUN I am– but see I am doing this TV segment, I know, I never thought I’d be on TV either. What? Yeah! I know. Anyway it’s at the crack of dawn tomorrow and I really need to get like four hours of sleep so could you possibly move the partying inside? Thanks!” Then they’d retire to their convertible one bedroom and set the VCR so they could watch their neighbor on the news while reminding themselves to invite me to their next soiree. And would I go? Doubtful, but it was so nice of them to think of me. Instead I just lie there getting more and more agitated. Or do I lay there? Dirty!