posted on Sep, 11 2010 @ 10:29 AM
All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many
And so it is, that there is no higher meaning to life than the dramatic "act". We are all merely players in one big existential theatre composed of
men women trees tables rabbits Eiffel Tower New Jersey, other various props and costumes and parts and sets.
Where one cast member faithfully announces their exit in a fanciful fashion another prepares a grand gesture to signal his singularly exceptional
entrance. To what? That is to the comic indifference of life. That is to things in motion and events in transition. That is to life's eternal
allure to mischievousness, pleasure, and feigned feelings.
You my friends all pay reverential respect to the sole vocation available to inhabitants on this planet, to coax to a climax Dionysian energies of a
transitory cosmos into a crescendo of sorrowful beauty and smoldering conscience. Not to forget your magnificent smile during the heat of battle, or
a love scene, for the cameras are always rolling.
As Patrick Bateman prowls the midnight urban landscape for a respectable hooker while thumbing an off-color bone engraved business card in expensive
limousine there is quiet anticipation, the whole audience grips seats in suspense. Scene 15, during ultra macho lascivious escapades one is hammered
by the glorious applause from vicarious voyeurs spying from the mezzanine.
A picture within a picture, a world within a world within a world of post-modern objectivism.
Take two... Action!
edit on 11-9-2010 by AProphet1233 because: (no reason given)