My Flatmate John

1-25-2011

Dear Journal,

Tonight I had dinner with my flatmate John. It's been a while since the two of us sat at the dinner table without anyone else. Usually our other flatmate would be there, or I'd bring a friend. Tonight everyone bailed out on me, so it was just the two of us.

Journal, John hasn't got so much to say, and to be honest, I've stopped attempting to strike up any conversation a while ago. I guess most people consider John a fuck-up, because, when asked what he does, he has to answer with "nothing". But while eating, in silence, mostly, I noticed that he at least combs his hair. Now, I don't even own a hair comb, so what does that make me? A student who doesn't comb his hair, I figure. But isn't that a very basic thing? Something that comes before civilization? Come on, I just use my hand to adjust the mop of hair that covers my head. It's like a comb consisting of five fingers, I thought while eating my cauliflower. I wondered if the thumb counts. I mean, it's much shorter then the other fingers, thus not very useful when combing.

Why is cauliflower named cauliflower, by the way? I know what a flower is, but what on earth is a cauli? Doesn't taste like cauli or flower anyway.

After some minutes I noticed that my plate was empty, while John was long from done hauling the contents of his'. I sat down and started to think about the advantage of a holistic approach to science, but I guess you're not really interested in that, so I'll skip this part.

While doing dishes I wondered what I'm doing here. I mean, I wondered - in general - what my current purpose in life is. Probably doing dishes with John and wondering about the combing function of my hand. Or would it have to do something with... what was it again... holism in science?

Nahh.

Love,
F.