Feeling a sudden frustration with the fact that I still have this tenth of a mile to walk before reaching my workplace: having seen this particular tenth of mile so many times before (I am beside the white picket fence of The Commons), I ask Reality, can we not for once, just this once, agree to mutually pretend it doesn’t actually exist? Will not space-time, in this one spot, having enjoyed my patronage for so long, extend to me this one feeble courtesy, and let me be instantly now where I’d like to be?… For it neither advantages reality nor myself to imagine this tenth of a mile exists, so let’s just for a day be done with it and agree it doesn’t matter?
It is at moments like these, when reality seems too repetitive and tedious to exist, that one is most fully persuaded it must exist, — as if reality itself must call the whole thing off, come charging in with its zebra-striped shirt and whistle, if it were only the least bit human… It’s Reality’s complete lack of self-awareness that in the end persuades us it must exist. What is real about reality is that the tedium truly goes on and on.
.i`` * ^ / . . . . . ` `~ 