# small quality packet of rolling tobacco medium weight rolling papers filters and a crappy semi-transparent red plastic lighter helplessly hoping by crosby stills and nash now plays in the lab background in which rollie cigarettes are sublime a potent distraction from summertime heartbreak - not that one's bs scientific heartache must be a concern of anyone even one's elf where hopeless fantasies and vain wishes for contact or intellectually simulating conversation too often turn out merely as entirely egotistical and elf-involving; often intrinsically limiting ir synthetic anti-nature and falsely dividing researchers into elf and other yet in which that 'other' happens to be all-too-easy to criticise smirking smug easily pleased middling class myfakefriends yet one would secretly give anything for chances to share ir same social network of forever-upward mobility to regularly imagine oneself some bs reluctant genius antihero on a biocomic quest to the far side of neon-tinged near-future retro 80s or at least whatever bs atomized neoliberal post-cyberpunk nonsense it is this week (impossible to keep up with 'big science') what a thing it is - to end up quite so psycho anorak-sad fragmented and feeble minded to somehow get a life dear researcher in endland's tepid weary grey dreaming // republic of bob