# help me i think i'm trapped in an absurdist universal realty that makes no sense andor which only makes perfect sense yet is still absurd not exactly a prison for the mind though that's certainly a feature rather a prison of mind a universe comprised of one giant elf - a hollow shell an empty desert delusion of grandeur a sour fevered daydream fnart cloud a non place where one imagines oneself a famous research scientist perhaps with a load of beautiful creative artist friends and /yet it's often all so shabby tawdry and third rate - a pigeon's nest realty so utterly boring an entire terminal beach of desiccated and tasteless existential coconut flakes one chokes from the sheer effort of having to drag oneself up out of bed each bleary uk morning to swallow another weary handful why does it bother existing at all - or maybe it doesn't and we only think it does // republic of bob