[(my friend billy stopped by late last night and wanted to share the following information with me and a handful of my email contacts- for secret reasons of his own he insisted that they, or rather, you, (I really am sorry for this) be picked completely at random. in fact, he himself went down the list, marking whichever boxes struck his particular fancy, muttering several times "seems like a decent enough batch of contacts." I had no idea what he meant by that and decided it was best not to ask.
it sounded risky, this idea of letting him essentially "have his way" with my precious gmail account, but I agreed to it- he's been having a pretty hard time of it recently. his only child, rick, age 17, announced just last month, out of the blue, that he was leaving the next day for a brand new life in siberia. he followed thru, and billy has not heard a word from him since. rick explained the night before he left that he needed a good 8 or 9 years of absolute isolation to think thru what he might do with the brief period of his life between high school and college, and he had secured this necessity by arranging thru a "friend" on facebook to do a little house-sitting in her family's underground bunker out there- completely off the grid and well beyond the reach of any wireless signal or postal clerk. apparently 8 or 9 year's worth of life's necessities were heaped up in a giant pile in a supply bunker situated under the main one. rick had always been the sort of lad able and willing to put faith in his fellow human beings, but, according to his dad, he was now "taking it to another level entirely". again, I wasn't sure what was meant by this cryptic expression, and again, I decided it was probably best not to ask.
rick and billy had been living together for 17 years outside the small town of mt. zion, il, in a log cabin that billy built with his friend skip back in 1995 in honor of young rick's arrival on earth. now, for the first time in both of their lives, they would be living completely alone- young rick by choice, middle-aged billy by circumstance. my poor friend still appears to be in a state of semi-shock- it's like he's been dumped by his own son! I told him that he was welcome to sit down at the keyboard and just get it all off of his chest if he wanted to. I assured him, a little shakily, that whatever random contacts of mine he had chosen could take it.)
(for what it's worth, he seemed a little frazzled. he was wearing a baseball cap embroidered with the likeness of kermit the frog. it appeared as though he hadn't been sleeping, eating, or bathing much recently. I knew he'd been spending quite a bit of time recently at all night cafes, drinking coffee and gazing off into what he referred to several times as a "vast seeming emptiness". now this was actually a phrase that I understood fairly well, so for once I was able to give him a nod of understanding with something approaching a sense of conviction)
(most of what follows was transcribed directly by him from an old dog-eared notebook that he was carrying with him- it looked as if it might have dated from the 1940's or 50's) (don't ask)]
..............................
{[(fragments of conversation overheard monday night, dec. 12th, at a denny's restaurant in galesburg, il) (hometown of acclaimed poet, scholar, wood carver, senator, family man, hunter, musician, mountain climber, quilter, well digger, mythologist, marijuana enthusiast, trapeze artist, farmer, glass blower, and sex therapist carl sandburg) (completely unedited and unsanitized fragments, presented in roughly the order I, william murphy, happened to hear them) (these diners touched on some really strange, distasteful, and unenjoyable subjects, and it probably would have been better for everyone concerned if I had just focused more on my beverage and view of the parking lot and passed these snatches of dialogue over in dignified silence)] [after all, passing things over in dignified silence has always been one of my favorite activities!] [(sharing it like this, in this manner, several days after the fact, with complete strangers, many of whom I'm guessing have never visited galesburg and probably have no intention of doing so- well, maybe I just like wasting people's time! maybe that's the "secret hobby" that some of you have been hearing about so much on the evening news recently. well, the only thing I can say is: please, don't shoot the messenger! and please- don't shoot matt either! he's only giving me this platform out of a misplaced sense of pity and loyalty- please please please don't try and formulate a psychological profile of the messenger based on disjointed conversational splinters he couldn't help overhearing and, in hindsight, wishes so badlyhe had been somehow prevented from hearing. you think I'm glad to have this sick transcript swirling around in my brain?!? why, oh why didn't I just take a portable radio or music player with headphones along with me? it would have solved so many problems! just another anonymous diner, completely cut offfrom everyone else, maybe even absentmindedly bobbing his head along in time with the beat- a simple and innocent enough sounding solution, you might be thinking. well, guess what- I'm a relatively simple and innocent person! how else could I have been so easily and completely corrupted? trust me, please, the next time I go to any public eating or drinking establishment I will do so only with one or more extremely lively companions of my own, so that a) I will be able to enjoy, like everyone else on planet earth, back-and-forth style discussion of topics more along the lines of my choosing, and b) this hopefully non-stop banter between my companions and I will completely shield us all from overhearing things that afford us neither pleasure nor benefit. in fact, I am telling you frankly at the outset, which means right now, at this very moment, that it would almost certainly be better for all parties involved for you to ignore the contents of this message entirely. for my sake, for matt's sake, for your sake, for the mayor's sake- yes, assuredly, that is the best course of action. please, return to your inbox,right now, select this message, headed "a mainstream dining experience", and then move and click your cursor or cursor-equivalent to the box marked with either an image of a garbage receptacle or the word "delete", "refuse", "reject", "erase" or "horrible error." technology makes it so much easier these days to correct our false steps! we make simple verbal requests directly into the machine, and the machine responds almost immediately! very little hesitation! the machine seems to know and understand what we want! shit- the machine wants it too! the machines and us are all so close together these days! we are finally able and encouraged to put our best feature forward, to unabashedly share with friends and family the experiences that make us all so prou)]}
"...you know, kim, I'm worried...they spend anawful lot of time in the sandbox...have you noticed that?...I mean, I know it's an important educational tool at all...[inaudible]...sure, sure...[inaudible]...exactly..
...i'm sorry, lloyd, but I still feel as though councilman michaels [an obscure local businessman who just announced last week that he is going to make a run for the us presidency] is the greatest man in america-
hands down, i'm sorry- he is the the greatest man in america!
and you know what? it doesn't hurt anything that his running-mate, councilwoman austin, just so happens to be the greatest woman in america-
sure, sure, i know- there are a lot of great men and women in america-
the greatest this, the greatest that...the top ten this, the top ten that...we as a nation are so filled with greatness and the top picks in all conceivable categories that every now and then a few poor souls just have to spontaneously combust- know what I mean? an escape valve, a pressure valve- it ain't natural for so much of the greatness to be sardine-packed into one single nation- I guess that's just our destiny, lloyd. the destiny of manifest and perennial greatness.
but these two are simply THE GREATEST, lloyd-
[getting right up in his face and whispering these words very fiercely into his ear, as if she was confiding to him a terrible secret] the greatest man and woman in america have decided to run for the highest office in the land!
makes sense if you think about it-
they could effectively lead our country out of this highly precarious era!
don't you want to get the f out of this precarious era, lloyd?
lloyd, are you even listening to me?!?
put that apple pie down for a second!
councilman michaels isn't just anybody- do you understand that?
he's the greatest man in america!
do you get that, you knucklehead?
councilwoman austin isn't just anybody-
she's the greatest woman in america!
they just got their website up and running-
it's the greatest website in america!
it has more important information on it than you or I will ever be able to read!
even if we read day and night, pausing only for the most essential biological processes-
and you know as well I do that most of those we could attend to just fine while reading!
lloyd, this election is really important!
holy fuck, we have to ingest all the information we can!
it's the information era, for crying out loud! it's our cultural mandate!
who are we to act as though all this information simply does not even exist?
are we insane, lloyd?
have we joined the ranks of the uncounted and unnumbered insane?
it exists, lloyd! if anything, you and I are the fantasies!
you and I and all these people here are the things conjured up out of thin air!
that apple pie you keep staring down at-
lloyd- lloyd, look at me- are you evenlistening?
for god's sake- if I didn't know any better I might think you were back in the time capsule!
that the real you is back in the time capsule and this human-shaped-thing here across the table from me is a hologram! eating hologram foodstuffs and listening to hologram muzak!
technology is shaping our lives in ways that...well...defy...what? what would you call it, lloyd? all our prior experience?
all of our precious prior experience?
sure, go ahead, finish it up.
yeah, I know it's fun and nutritious.
but will you at least acknowledge the truth of what I'm saying here, honey?
councilpeople michaels and austin are the greatest people in the entire united states of america!
[the following was shouted very very loudly over the quiet din of denny's] COUNCILPEOPLE MICHAELS AND AUSTIN ARE THE FINAL HOPE FOR HUMANITY! THEY HAVE NO EQUAL IN AMERICA! THEY LEAVE THE REST OF AMERICA COMPLETELY BEHIND! IN THE DUST!
(very awkward silence for about 15 seconds, followed by some muffled laughter, semi-freaked out children asking questions in tense, whispered voices, followed by somewhat euphemistic answers whispered back by their parents or guardians, and all along, a gradual return to the normal dining atmosphere. surprisingly or not, the server does not come around to their table to ask if everything is all right)
"i realize that this might sound like a pretty strange way to talk-
but lloyd- c'mon, admit it! our country is in a serious pickle!
our country is on the verge of disappearing into absolute nothingness!
[standing up and again addressing the general public in a very loud voice]
DO YOU HEAR THAT, PEOPLE? YEAH, I SAID IT- OUR COUNTRY, AMERICA, IS ON THE VERGE OF DISAPPEARING INTO ABSOLUTE, FULL-BLOWN, IRREVERSIBLE NOTHINGNESS! AND HERE'S A NEWS FLASH FOR YA- YOUAIN'T GONNA LIKE NOTHINGNESS!
[a few more murmurs and chuckles but the restaurant atmosphere barely misses a beat]
and guess what, lloyd- if that happens, the planet itself will most likely follow!
america has always led by example and I see no reason why this would be any different!
our proud and beautiful earth, once the very pride of the solar system, will not even be the merest speck of dust out in space! it simplywill no longer exist! can you live with that thought, lloyd? can you go on placidly finishing up your pie and peppermint ice cream with that dire possibility hanging over your most-likely holographed head?
well, if you're not gonna support me in this I'm gonna get up and start dialoguing with some of the other diners in here-
[inaudible]
"no problem" you say? "no problem"?
well, hon, I'm sorry to tell you-
there actually is a small pro
[inaudible]
"no problem", you say again, as if mumbling some stock phrase into the void?
lloyd, pull yourself together for a minute, won't you?
we're out in public, for cryin' out loud- we're at one of the last public eateries in town that will have us...
...I don't know, glenn...it's hard to say...at some point, yes...yes, I realized that they both had pretty serious psychological problems. this is a very touchy subject to bring up in relation to our would-be elected officials...we want very badly for them to be almost totally sane...yes, glenn, poll numbers show this again and again...99, 98...certainly never any lower than 97%...my god, that would be flirting with absolute armageddon...and yet...look, I secretly observed councilman michaels and councilwoman austin last friday for almost 17 hours without interruption and realized that, in fact, they had deep and deeply overlappingpsychological issues. if forced to make a guess, I would say that yes...yes indeed...yes, glenn, I would say that they were, in fact, long-standing issues...I would and I will...it wouldbe much more diplomatic, I realize, to suggest that they were issues brought on by the immense strain and pressures of non-stop campaigning, but that would be sugar-coating the truth and I feel as though I've already done way too much of that as it is...yeah, no kidding... I have lost so much credibility in this regard among my readers, colleagues, associates...most human beings, actually...most machines too, now that I think about it...anyways...you know earl? from accounting? yeah, I know...I agree...he's a little bit sick...and yet- have you noticed? he'salways the one giving advice! a strange turn of events...makes you wonder if the company is in fact finally coming to a much needed and probably much deserved close...he even went so far the other week as to...well, wait...I'll just read it...yeah, he posted it to the message board on my website...yeah, I still maintain my own website...anyways, he posts this really sick shit for just anyone to come along and read if they want...hold on...[manipulates hand held device]...ok, here it is: "michaels- just a quick word to the wise- anytime you want to express something thru language- anything at all- doesn't matter- doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, little fella- just check that initial impulse to blurt it out all at once and instead, pause, count to 20, and then write it down, word for word, carefully, in an old fashioned, paper-based notebook. keep the notebook with you at all times, along with a couple of pens. latch it onto your belt if you have to. never let it out of your sight. even if it's something very specific you want or feel you need to say or email or tweet or skype or post or respond to- even if it seems to be time sensitive or relevant to someone you know or even "love", if that's possible- still, just stay with the program, ok? shut your fucking mouth, shut off all your fucking equipment, write it down in the fucking notebook- get it all out in the notebook. vomit it all out into a notebook. stop littering the landscape with your ill-concieved, ill-expressed, and ill- proportioned articles, comments and mutterings. people would be better off if they simply heard nothing more of or from you at all ever again, or at least until you can stop sugar-coating every god-damned thing that comes out of your mouth! you're like the opposite of a kid who needs to have his mouth washed out with soap! and no, I'm not gonna follow that up with the predictably sick comment about washing it out with shit, either. neither of those two things are desirable, son. when are you going to see that? when are you going to get that? you don't have to choose one or the other. that's one of the fun things about earth! take as much time as you need to realize this fundamental fact of existence. ok? and don't worry- nobody is going to be holding their breath...in the meantime, if you must, just jot your stuff down in the notebook, wait a few weeks or months, and then examine it afterwards to see all the ways you have distorted it, coated it, mangled it, murdered it, and then at the end of every october go outside and dump it in with the rest of the stuff in the time capsule. this probably sounds harsh, but really- I'm only suggesting all these things for your own good. well, ok, also for the good of your colleagues and neighbors and contacts. nothing wrong with the time capsule, ok? nothing wrong with establishing a long term relationship with an aluminum time capsule- you know, the kind you bury yourself out in the backyard at night, hoping against hope that there aren't any neighbors spying on you. they could do a lot of damage, you realize. really ruin an entire life's work, if you let them- trust me on this one, young man- your colleagues and peers will understand totally. my guess is that they will stand behind you 100%...
...suffice it to say that I was high on crack riding around on my unicycle this weekend and noticed them at a picnic table down by the waterfront discussing whether they had enough left in their "war chest" to get the car fixed in time to get to the iowa caucuses. it's true, they conceded, they didn't absolutely need to be there "in person" but they felt it would make a "strong statement" to the american public. they were relieved to learn that most voters didn't give a "rat's ass" about the results of the november straw poll any more- "water under the bridge" is how a local newspaper article quaintly described it. of course it was still viable water and would still continue flowing down the same prescribed channels- there would most likely be other bridges, and they wanted to be there when the inevitable happened-it was essential to bringing in much needed- desperately needed- finacial backers. big-time dollars, if you know what I mean. ...yeah, major league dollars...ain't dickin' around anymore with the dollars...air-time was absolutely essential, yes, but first they needed to secure simplebrain-time...and yeah, sure, this is where the benjamins could play a critical role...google will eventually be implanted into electorate's frontal lobes...so silky smooth-like they won't even realize it...but that's still another couple election cycles away- just having their names and faces somewhere inside people's physical or gravy-based brains, somewhere inside the brain stem, the circuitry, you know- anywhere in that general region- if they have to take a hit and settle temporarily for, say, the liver, or pancreas- well- no big deal- they would just roll with the punches...however, settling for anything too close to the digestive tract could be counterproductive- I think the reasons are obvious, and yet, here I am, sickeningly sweet as ever, revealing a clue: has to do with physical waste and its inevitable expulsion from the biological system, which in this new era might translate into complete expulsion from memory and consciousness. a terrible, terrible fate for the human...liquids, solids, gases, and different combinations thereof. they want their names and official campaign photos to become permanent parts of people's neurological systems, in a state of constant circulation, crystallized and refined thru daily and sometimes even hourly updates- any candidate who is unable or unwilling to put enough distance between his or her core bodily message and the aforementioned waste-products that are inevitably invoked by today's global media- well, that candidate would be forced into a state of permanent damage control...know what I mean, jelly bean?...the potential link in a young voter's mind between a candidate's message and the sight of fresh///
-hey, glenn- do you mind if I finish this before///
fresh human waste material swirling around in mid-flush- well, it's a potentially devastating link- no doubt about it. it's a link that is very seldom...well...hmm...maybe it's best if we...let's just say it's the kind of upheaval that can ruin a campaign overnight. the faceless, the hopeless, the jobless, the lifeless- we can't give them any more incentive to hurl themselves down into the briny abyss. it's a chance that we as a nation simply cannot afford to even consider...
...so...of course...I'm staying on message...yesiree bob...sorry- robert...no, no, no- it's not the core bodily presence...no, brain-based- you see that? the brain stem- sure, sure, the old lizard desires...or at the very least- wait- yes, waiting was a very important preliminary maneuver. the tvs, computers, magazines, newspapers, and all-important radio programs would all come into play soon enough- it's brain-time we want, dill-rod- these faces and their voices floating around in the dark...respectfully watching the water approach from a murky and mysterious distance, trying hard to ignore the pipes abutting out here and there from the sandbars and banks dumping nameless clumps and fluids into our nation's arterial waterways; a visored and slightly jaundiced hand raised to the brow as the setting sun glints on the handcrafted lures pinned to the cap of a grizzled and anonymous fly-fisherperson, casting about for food in the time honored fashion, whistling a bar here and there from the children's tv classic little house on the prairie, thinking back to the simpler days when pa was allowed to go outside and shoot his musket off drunkenly without having to ask "the man" for a fucking permission slip- and simultaneously trying to ignore the heckler who is suggesting that the fisherperson is a mere plant or prop put in place by the campaign to suggest notions of an american outback, a still viable rugged pioneer ethic or fantasy- until all speculation about the prop is squelched when the fisherperson notices the hullabaloo up on the bridge and takes it into his or her head to "flash" the cameras- yet even this wanton and diabolical act the candidate is able to turn to his or her advantage, citing america's grand tradition of performance art, protest, and partial freedom of expression for the mentally ill. an advisor whispers to the candidate that the fisherperson is in fact certifiably sane and hence breaking a very serious family values type law, but gosh, by this point the water is clearly "under the bridge", and it wistfully flows off and recedes around a tree-canopied bend, where a young lad and his sex mannequin are photographed chiseling their names into a sycamore, just he and it against the world, he and it ready to take on all comers- "young love", the candidate murmurs, putting his or her arm around his or her spouse and vice versa, or if not yet or no longer married, just standing there, alone, with arms folded, slightly concerned that the us electorate might not be ready for...lunatics...still- there's something fundamentally suspic
...kim- wait- listen to me! it's not the sandbox itself I'm objecting to! it's the proportions I'm questioning! look, the sandbox itself is just fine! it's way, way better than fine! it's the most impressive sandbox I've ever seen in my life! if I was a kid I'd probably wanna play in that thing all day too! and yeah, if mr. larry was my teacher I'd probably be digging an underground bunker along with the rest of them! do you know what sean told me last week? apparently some kid has been livingdown there!...[inaud]...no, he's not a student at Harris...he's just some 5 year old neighborhood vagrant, I guess...[inaud] yeah, apparently he wandered in one morning while mr. larry was in the back playing his dulcimer and the kids just sort of adopted him- yeah, it seems as though, all behind mr. larry's back, they're giving him sanctuary down in one of the underground chambers...look, these kids have heard about the housing bubble, ok? these kids have heard about homelessness- apparently this little fella stumbled in, a little disoriented maybe, a little disheveled, and these kind took one quick look at him and immediately knew what was up- before the day was over he was safely harbored somewhere down in the depths of that thing, they had smuggled some food and blankets down to him, set him up with a laptop, an x-box...[inaud]...look, I'm not saying that they're not learning some real life lessons thanks to that sandbox- it just seems to me they could sometimes emphasize other parts of the curriculum- I don't know, maybe they still need to develop some other parts of the curriculum- look, kim, you know I'm all for a wide-ranging curriculum- I mean, if they called their school "the sandbox academy" or "sand-based educational pathways" or something- well, as a parent you'd realize you were maybe getting your kid involved in something a little unusual- but Harris Elementary School? no indication whatsoever at parent orientation of the role that the sandbox might play- in fact they had it covered over and draped with bunting and were using it as some kind of stage! I thought it was a little weird at the time to have such a gigantic stage all set up just so that mr. larry could give a little speech and play some songs on his dulcimer...
...look, it if turns out that greg, the candidate's nephew, did indeed go out in pursuit of the thought-form...toys-r-us is going under and they're actually paying people to come and haul away toys...and that there was and never would be any actual thought-form...sorry, charlie, but they they don't allow you to bring your own popcorn into the emergency room- bozo and cookie? no way! ferris bueller's day off? no way, man!...well, i guess the person or form called michael, designated as michael, mass of tissues called, sometimes, michael, mass of confused and swirling fantasias
called...michael? michael, can you hear me? no, I'm still here at denny's...there will never ever be a ban on teen drivers...no...sorry...it will not impinge on our brisk holiday business at the local youth pony stables and hostel- i'm sorry- hostellers young and old and all manner of pony enthusiasts have in some ways been the backbone of that town's dying economy...never an actualized or error-free thought form, nothing solid or liquid that the human entity might mistake for a dinner reservation at denny's... "dining alone", as it were, randall, but still way better than sitting at home with you and a bowl of brain pudding...pig wrestling? did I hear you right? look, either come up out of the cellar or call me back when you have...pig wrestling? with jerry? various who? other options?... pinned to the carpet and requesting of the store manager a little private assistance: sir- which foods might agree with me? which deserts might agree with me? which salads? which casseroles?" and the store manager, seemingly well acquainted with the late-night mentally ill solitary dining experience, sits down in the booth with the michael mass or hologram entity and patiently goes over the menu options with him again...toys-r-us will not reimburse you- no- they will hand you actual cash- that's how badly they want to be relieved of their identity...oh...I'm sorry, their inventory...same thing, pretty much...apparently the shareholders sympathize with michael's misplaced confidence in the return of the original thought-form...and the mistaken notion that it could be celebrated and awaited at just any old 24 hour cafe. this was a very serious error indeed, mr. michaels...the store manager made some meal suggestions the likes of which he had never made before in his professional life- meal suggestions so bizarre, so eccentric, that he was rightly concerned that if they were ever made known among his staff or the dining public in general- well, he might very well lose his position. he might very well be fired ignominiously by the regional mananger. michael was not an altogether trustworthy customer. these late-night diners, often sitting for hours at a time without moving, staring at the same page of the menu motionlessly for hours at a time before ordering; the late-night diners sometimes needed a friendly little push just to get the ball rolling- they were paralyzed, it would appear, by the sheer number of choices...
...lloyd, I've made a decision- I'm volunteering for their campaign. starting now. they need more people like me. more people like me and a few less people like you. sorry, hun. I know you're about ready to say "no problem" and that just proves my point all the more...the store manager told me he'd be glad to keep an eye on you while I canvas the neighborhood. if people are in bed, well, guess what? that just means they're at home! they can choose not to answer their doorbells, right? that's still a fundamental american liberty. I'll just slip a handwritten note under the door and they can get back to me at their own convenience. when they read my well-thought-thru, well-considered, and yet hastily hand-scrawled personal messages, they will realize the urgency and importance of this cultural moment- the importance of this relationship- our relationship, lloyd- you and me, you and them, them and me, and their neighbors. it almost feels like the sing-a-longs we used to initiate out in the parking lot! they will no longer be able to deny that we are indeed all "in-this-thing-together." this thing...ok...this thing...what? the threat of absolute nothingness?...christ, what a stupid idea! and yet, this weird guy over here mumbling something into his handheld device is saying to a disembodied consciousness somewhere that it sounds like "as good an idea as any"! if they don't answer my first message, well then, lloyd, there will be a second forthcoming. and if they don't answer the second, well, there will be a third, then a fourth, and so on, ad infinitum. despite remaining married to a person like you, hun, I am- as we used to say sometimes back in grade school at Harris- "in-it-to-win-it." an anonymous stranger, going door to door, often barefoot, unwashed, disheveled, in the deepest, darkest, and stillest hour of night, utilizing the magic of the written word if they refuse to answer the door and speak to me personally...
...the store manager was rightly concerned and decided it would be best for michaels to just try and get back to the basics: mints, potatoes, fruits, gravies, dairies, vegetables, candies, and tree nuts. all of these things were still available at denny's and it was high time someone pointed this simple fact out to him...
...being such a details-oriented candidate he misses the bigger picture sometimes...the wood grain is not important...the wood grain ha
(to be continued)
(no, please, I think we've got the general picture.)
(yeah, you're probably right. it pretty much just goes on and on in the same exact vein.)
(yeah, billy, we realized that a few minutes ago.)
(why are you still reading/listening, then?)
(I guess your secret hobby isn't so secret these days)
(these days? what difference do these days possibly make?)
(look- just chill out regarding your "secret hobby" for awhile- ok? after 3rd or 4th grade, nobody wants to hear about anyone else's so-called "secret hobby"- there are no "secret hobbies" anymore, anyways. it's all right out there in the open)
(yes, I totally agree with you there- absolutely all out there in the open)
(raw and unfiltered?)
(completely raw and unfiltered.)
(open to all sorts of germs and viruses?)
(beckoning all sorts of germs and viruses.)
(look, we get the idea.)
(I saw some people eating food off the floor.)
(tell us more about your "secret hobby"- I didn't mean what I said a second ago)
(wasting people's time, you mean?)
(yeah, waste a little bit more of my time.)
(ok, no problem...should I just start again right where I left off?)
(yeah- start right where you left off)
(we can enjoy this hobby together!)
(you're right, billy- it doesn't have to be a secret anymore!)
(we can do a lot of fun things together! we can do so many fun things together!)
(billy- you're so right on. you are completely spot-on.)
