Tag: rando (Page 6 of 11)

You look cool.

“Yes.”

Can I be your friend?

“Maybe.”

When will you let me know whether it’s going to be yes or no?

“Right now.”

Okay.

“No.”

Aw.

“In a way, aren’t we all faceless?”

No. Not unless you’ve been struck by lightning or mauled by a chimp.

“But in another way, haven’t we all been struck by lightning and mauled by a chimp?”

Yes.

“There you go.”

Why do we care about celebrity?

“Celebrity lies at the nexus of two facts about humanity: we love to gossip, and our brains are incapable of discerning between a photograph and real life, at least when it comes to storing memories. I mean, you can usually tell photos from real life on a day-to-day basis.”

Sure.

“How old is photography? The Age of Image is a new one, and our cortexes can’t figure out fiction from fantasy. We can’t understand our own creation. In terms of evolution, humanity has outkicked its coverage.”

This sounds suspiciously like evolutionary psychology to me.

“It is, so you should probably ignore it. Fun to spout off at parties, though.”

Who would win in a fight: equinox or solstice?

“Equinox, because it means ‘night horse’ in Greek.”

It almost certainly doesn’t. Are you wearing a cape?

“I thought there might be a press conference later.”

What is Truth?

“The rabbit leading on the greyhounds, chased but never caught. Those who claim it, lie; those who seek it, fail; a preoccupation for poets and the idle, a nuisance for most else. What good is Truth? Live in lies, happy and plump. Wanna know the Truth? Water-skiing is a blast.”

It totally is.

“You’re on top of the water! The best.”

Can we hang out? I won’t be weird, but everyone else here is scaring me or had their security remove me from their Sabbath dinner.

“You’re on probation. My friends all ran away from me.”

Literally?

“Yes.”

“THE NIGHT HORSES ARE AFTER US!”

Equinox is Latin, dammit.

“THEY HAVE HOOVES MADE OUT OF MIDNIGHT!”

Oh, fuck this.

Cockatoo?

“Buy a girl a drink first.”

You have many accessories, but not too many.

“Less is best. Fewer is super.”

Both of those things almost mostly rhyme.

“Every language uses rhyme; it’s a universal feature of grammar; it might make someone believe in Noam Chomsky’s bullshit.”

You just argued for Universal Grammar.

“I said there were universal features of grammar, not that there was a Universal Grammar. If we’re going to talk about linguistics, you need to pay attention to the words.”

Can we stop talking about linguistics, then?

“What shall we discuss?”

What’s the opposite of a glacier?

“An airplane exploding.”

When does a pond become a lake?

“When it turns 13; 15 in Mexico.”

What happens if your pants go any lower?

“They’re off.”

What a lovely thought.

“You seem mildly acceptable, perhaps–to others, not me–but I’m married to my career. In fact, I need to get back to the Bolshoi immediately.

The what?

“MY NAME IS MIKHAIL BARYSHNIFUCK AND I WISH TO DEFECT FROM SOVIET RUSSIA!”

This goddamned bit is killing me.

“DID YOU EVER SEE THE RED SHOES?”

Oh, don’t bring up The Red fucking Shoes.

You look so wholesome.

“It’s the boots.”

Shouldn’t you clothe yourself?

“Shouldn’t you not tell women what to wear?”

I didn’t mean it that way.

“How did you mean it?”

You’re standing in a sandstorm.

“My outfit is modeled on Bedouin garb.”

Really?

“This is what they wear under all the flowing bullshit.”

Wow, didn’t know that. What do you get out of Burning Man?

“What you put into it. And what it puts into you. And what others put into you. One becomes semi-permeable, is my point.”

Your underwear has pockets.

“They’re tactical panties.”

What do you fear?

“That ambition is hollow, and the future dull. The blind curve. And overhead fans you turn on by pulling the little chain; I always thought I might pull the whole ceiling down by accident.”

Is your strength that great?

“No, but workmanship can be that shoddy.”

What’s the 121st greatest Bruce Springsteen song?

“The one about the car and the girl.”

Wow.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Damn.

“Doesn’t have to be bad news for you.”

…

Is he dead?

“He needs to be buried. Dead? I’m not a doctor. He needs to be buried.”

And then you’ll be my girlfriend?

“Sure, yeah.”

Let’s bury this chomper.

“Yay! I promise I won’t kill you, too, and toss you next to him in the grave you dig.”

What?

“Nothing. I think you’re handsome.”

Really?

“Yes. Get the shovel, baby.”