“I have to endure reading line after line of nonsense to get to one pithy line about existence? And even if I do somehow find that one line, it might all be balderdash?”
“That may entail the perception of how this works.”
“Then why do it?”
“It shall remain hard to truly know what you want to do and where you want to go, when all we have done our whole lives was live off the knowledge, skills and experience of others.”
“But I am just reading words. That is not an experience I create. They are just words manifested out of the mind of someone who is probably crazy anyway. And they might not even be his words. He might have just plagiarized them so even he didn’t create the experience. The world is nonsense. The less I think about it the better off I will be.”
“The painter does not create the paint just as the writer does not create the language. All use the same tool constructions during this space-time allowance; some just devote more energy into enveloping the whole of what one wishes. What the mind of one endeavors so shall the body of another if it can be abstracted upon. Others do not exist once the imagination has unfurled without restriction.”
“That sounds like a bunch of BS. Of course, I haven’t smoked in a while so perhaps I need some medication.”
“From what I conceive, you still seem confined to your rational conception of what seems real and what does not seem real. The social constructs of how you think remain solidified. Reality is a fiction just as fiction is a fiction. Any proposition I give you equates to a probability function of somewhat truth, somewhat falsehood. Some words shall seem insipid and others divine. What one picks up upon shall be the perception of the confines.”
The waitress entered the scene to hand off the check.
The stoic taoist at that moment appeared apprehensive. The other could sense the hostility in the air.
“Let me guess. Once again, you don’t have any money.”
“It pays to seem clever, not wise.”