Soooo, caught up on some payphone calls from the last few weeks. That’s maximum entertainment value, I say.
I find the payphone calls eerie at times, and I suspect others would as well. Who do I think I’m talking to? Who do I think is listening? Why am I saying these things, and in this way?
I have my answers but that’s for the inhabitation of my mind, that existentially questionable place of oblivion where mysteries go to rot.
I have looked back at some of this stuff and asked what I think a lot of observers would ask: “Why does this exist? Why would anybody do this?” I guess I reached a point of solipsistic remonstrance. Then I just kept at it.
The story about the guy taking pictures of me that day, I don’t know why it took over a year to document it. I could have talked to him, I thought, because he seemed confused, and not about my behavior but about society in general. But he didn’t seem like a negotiator. He had his war machine (his cameraphone) ready to go at any time.
