January 2010
2 posts
'routine': a standard procedure of sorts
There is not much that he does not know about custom.
His life is governed by the simplest of things: the habitual thud of the morning paper against his front porch. The two sachets of sugar he dissolves into his putrid, putrid afternoon coffee. The woman with fucking fabulous tits that he ogles daily on the train home.
His knowledge on matters that most people consider important is passable at...
“I am no longer anything but a skin, and my skin does not belong to you.”
– Jean-Paul Sartre, ‘No Exit’