funkypig: So. Saturday night? Sitting at home. Writin’ in your blog. Must be getting old, eh? That thir-TAY year-old-thing finally caught up, I see.
8r4d: Whatever. We had a busy day. We did some shopping. Cleaning. Tried taking the dog for a walk in the bitter cold. And. AND I just — just, as in ten minutes ago — went for a run. Carrot and stick: I revved up the treadmill and I ran thirteen minutes at good pace — a jogging pace. Enough to get the blood flowing. And then I’m chilling with a beer in front of the computer for a few minutes.
funkypig: But, still. Sitting at home on a Saturday night? Where’s the fun guy I used to know? Where is the party night out? Where…
8r4d: Retired. Did you see my week?
funkypig: Oh, c’mon. So you had a busy coupl’a days. Suck it up.
8r4d: And you?
funkypig: You know better than that. I don’t even really exist. I’m just a figment of your imagination masquerading as a bit of bourgeois intellectualism.
8r4d: How do you figure?
funkypig: Really? Do I really need to explain. You know what I am. You’ve stuffed yourself into a creative roller coaster, wheeling full tilt through a triple inverted loop of mental thrill-riding whilst scrambling to invent some kind of fictional metaverse through which to explore you own institutional hangups and — simply — I am the direct result.
8r4d: Is that wrong? What’s wrong with that? Tell me. What the hell is WRONG with THAT? If I want to vent some pent up creative energy into intangible fabrications of the psyche then isn’t it better I share those fabrications with a wide audience.
funkypig: I suppose… if you want everyone to think you’re… I don’t know… crazy.
8r4d: You’re operating under the assumption — possibly and likely false — that I believe in your existence.
funkypig: Do you?
8r4d: Do I believe you exist?
funkypig: Uh. I see… yet…
funkypig: Yet… there is still the question of your little project. How. Exactly. Am I linked. To. That?
8r4d: You. Are. Exactly. Not linked to that. Period. Full stop.
8r4d: Yeah. Does that bother you?
funkypig: Maybe if I existed it would. But — genius — you quickly forget that I do not exist and these little hangups do not affect me. Per se. Such as things are.
8r4d: Would you like to be linked? It’s still early. I could fit you in.
funkypig: No… well, no. I mean… no. That’s not what I’m trying to accomplish here. You know, it’s more of ME helping YOU find an opportunity to step away from that little metaverse you seem to be so…
funkypig: … caught up in. Yeah. That’s the one. I mean, really. Tying yourself into a single creative outlet is like, you know, marriage or something. It’s almost as if you’ve been co-joined with this little project for the year. That’s, uh… that’s serious obligations, creatively speaking.
8r4d: It’s just a thing I gotta do. It’s just…
funkypig: I know. I understand. But just so we’re clear. Don’t be spending ALL of your Saturday nights with this thing. We need you sane by the time year-end rolls round. Next thing you’ll be talkin’ to imaginary… uh… never mind.