Don’t think that I’m magnetised by your darkness, philosopher. Don’t think you’re drawing me into your abyss. I actually have an abyss of my own. I have my own … despair.
What’s the meaning of meaning, philosopher? Is that the kind of thing a philosopher asks? What’s it All About?
I’m discovering my philosophical side. Saying things that are probably terribly gauche in the humanities. Philosophically naïve …
You guys have been angsting away for decades. You’re experts at this. And I think I can just … talk into the air.
Am I fucked up, or just philosophical?
Work in Progress 