An Excellent Choice, Sir

I spoke a grand total of five(5!) times yesterday. And it wasn't terribly profound things, nor words of great importance.

In Saba: "Do you have this in small?" & "Thanks."

David Jones: "I'd like to buy this", "credit" & "Thanks."

I pointed at my throat and pretended to be mute everywhere else. It's not like I woke up and decided to be mute...It was just an already noisy day, and I saw no need to add to it. The wind howled all night, the streets thronged with irritating schoolgirls,

"likeohmaygawdIknowthatbitchshestolemylookletsgoMaxBee"
(real words, I swear)

and there were far too many impatient (or incompetent) drivers on the roads. The time I spent outside was with my housemate's iPod at full blast, like a veritable audio-spacesuit, shielding me from the harsh noises of humanity (ironically to be replaced by the not-so-harsh voices issuing forth from the earphones).

This is the punishment, I suppose, for waking up consistently after 3pm. That I miss the quiet sanctity of the mornings, and live instead in a constant clutter of meaningless noises. With just an iPod for protection, that I might have some choice in what I hear.

"Good evening sir. Would you like the Crapshit today, or the Shitcrap? Or perhaps I could interest you in the day's special?"

"What's the day's special?"

"Two burly men will roll you around in an enticing mix of Bull with shit and/or crap, and then slice off your ears."

"I'll take the Crapshit, thanks."

"An excellent choice, sir."

To Ignore, and be Ignored, by the World at Large.