Imagination went the way of LSD…These days surrealists are only found talking to themselves on street corners in the bad parts of town or working in advertising agencies.
“Now that the leaves have fallen I’m seeing neighbors I haven’t seen for months.”
“And they’re seeing you…Are you sure they’re your neighbors?”
“I haven’t seen any of them carrying appliances other than leaf blowers.”
“Ah! The Infamous Leaf-blower Burglarers…you fool!”
I don’t see a person’s race. I’m color-blind that way.”
“Me too. Black,white, yellow, red or brown…it doesn’t matter.”
“Everybody now on earth is human, alien or some kind of mutant.”
“I tend to see people as animals…Look there’s a bear (gestures)…That one’s an ocelot…Oh look a pangolin!”
Reading Overheard Starbuck makes me feel like:
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it must be an exercise in brilliant dialoge writing
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this person must live in a metropolis far more interesting than my own (although I image each of these exchanges occuring at the Lakewood Starbucks for some reason)
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or, C8H10N4O2 is really a miraculous substance