Now how am I supposed to discuss the book with babes, Camus?
p.s. I have to admit, it was interesting to be entertained by a book about nothing (think Seinfeld or Bukowski fiction without any sense of humor, just straight up meandering). Also, there actually being consequences to societal indifference is a pretty wild deal when you consider it. I mean, a lack of compassion without malice actually being extraordinarily frowned upon is something to behold. But, still, if some glossy dead-in-the-eyes smokin' hot babe was into this, how am I to connect with her, huh, Camus? By being just as nonchalant as she is in the hypothetical skimpy sundress she's wearing but not giving a flying fuck about? How do American twenty-something layabouts connect with ridiculously attractive poetesses if flirting is too much interest and eye contact might not be enough? TELL ME, YOU GODDAMN FRENCHIE LUNATIC. Sorry, sorry. That was out of line. I'm sure I'll figure it out. I BETTER, OR ELSE. Sorry, sorry. Totally did it again. Ah well. C'est la vie.
HOLY SHIT, THIS ENTIRE BOOK IS "C'EST LA VIE."