Sebastian Stefan Mittl

My ego didn’t want to clean up the lego on the floor. Grandpa: YOU were playing. Me: Yes, but YOU were watching. You’re not doing it right, your performance fails to entertain me sufficiently. I’ll have to do it myself then. Now that I have cancelled my Catholic church membership, I feel free to pirate its aesthetic heritage for the hole. Am I an employee of my own ideas that are passing through? The hierarchy is unclear, for I command them to entertain me. Maybe I’m like those paid audiences that applaud when the screen tells them to. My task seems to be to state the obvious by merely carrying out the latest instructions, but if they won’t allow me to be surprised I’m gonna quit. Superlatives have to interlock; dinosaurs and molecules will be sent to work after emerging from the brownish mental fog.