Imaginary conversation in schizophrenic brain (SB). A symptom of reading diet consisting of McCarthy and Palahnuik with an India-Pakistan in nuclear holocaust essay thrown in for the light stuff between the two.
SB1: When I was 18 I had all my existential crises in my head. Didn’t act them out. Actually even the ones I had weren’t violent.
SB2: Yeah. That is because you were having them to the tune of Milan Kundera and Emily Dickinson. You can only have sensible epiphanies on the nature of life. It leads you to virtuous, old-fashionedly optimistic choices. If you had been more with it, reading Palahnuik or even the damn newspaper often enough you would have managed a more modern angst. It would have been edgy. You would have acquired and acted out a nice doped out violent streak.
SB1: But it would have been more expensive. I mean, there wasn’t a single character in this Palahnuik that wasn’t a walking pharmacy. I couldn’t have afforded those things. And even if I had managed to scrape together the resources, it would have ended up like ‘The Joke’. Downing laxatives when you meant to commit suicide with some sleeping pill thing. I wouldn’t have known which pills to swallow for a headache, let alone to get a high.
SB2: Haven’t you heard of google?
SB1: Oh Yeah. The good student way to becoming druggie. Google your way through a lit survey. Shortlist drugs of choice. Stock. Then snort, swallow or syringe as appropriate.
SB2: Uh. Yeah. You have to start somewhere. If you want something done right, have to do it yourself in nice organised fashion. And its not like the peer group is overflowing with people that can help.
SB1: But what about guns? Not possible to do good rampage without accessories.
SB2: Kitchen Knife?
(Some sane corner of brain) : Shut up. Its time to read Thirukkural