Cosmopolis.

There is a cult and there undoubtedly is something; oh, what I do with my mind, what I do with my imagination; yet another day passed; enjoying the life, aren't we? I am, at least. I am regularly  erasing, well, not even recording, most of facts, memories, well, at least those which I do not need for rehearsing and replaying later on in my head for pleasure and endorphin-inducement purposes. It is like an extra extrapolation of project minimalism gone big time. Real up- and over the scale. ROI over the top. A trivial example: one day a friend tells me something; suppose she wants to muse over it again but although it is the very next day I ain't recall a thing; not even a thang. What for, sounds my mental rhetoric [question]. It is a mingle of everything I found attractive to some critical degree, the internal you keep asking me about. Now, on another sub.. no, it's a topic since it does not deserve such a sophisticated a notion as subject; then, what the hell she is thinking she is? Her frame being so obnoxiously ugly. As simple as that. Ugly. Nothing more to say in this... topic.

Lemme get to the point of this post. Cosmopolis it says. Not without a reason. Cosmopolis was about information mostly. So will this message be. There is something overwhelmingly attractive in being in possession of information. There is something devilishly condescending in having the access to some of the secret kind of information aka a dainty morsel thereof. Here is an example [I'm kinda into examples tonight, ain't I]: A is smitten with well, D, I presume was his name [now you have the sexes to better suss out in the story]; D and a friend of his, M, came for a late night visit n stuff pthe stuff being the key in the story] with an accompanying bottle of a not soft drink. They partied in the room next to mine and having the s.c. great time when D's cell rang. So he goes out of the room to the corridor, the door right next to the room where I have just made myself cosy enough to get some beauty sleep. And so I hear the unaware guy saying the following content rushing right out of his inattentive mouth: Ey, bro, listen up, I have all set on that girl in Bres[lau], she's so slim cos propb she's the fitness type n, n, I'll be living with her over there n we'll be making love, n stuff... Hesus fuckin Christ. What was it that I have just heard? Me heard. The girl A all infatuated was now positioned in my head as knee deep in shit. Awfully smelling shit. The guy was not hitting on her but  concocting on how to kill the proverbial two birds [bitches or pussies rather] with one stone. Now here comes my dilemma: shall I tell her or shall I not? Me shall not. I have ultimately put the bid on not acquainting her with the hot news. My plan involved voyeurism, that is, watching but not get involved. Isn't it the greatest part? Not only is it awesome a position to occupy but it also is compatible with the rest of my life philosophy. I did not plan on involving her and so I haven't on mixing myself into shit I care not about [meaning the love affair and life of hers]. She just did not deserve it. Yes, lesson learnt, there are information and there are people. Both vary in kind. Therefore, one in the possession and the knowledge of either has the decisive power of whom and what to initiate with. This couldn't be any better of a day end.