Of course, I don't believe in thoughts, but I hate everything about being normal. I hate the standing up. I hate the sitting down. I despise it all. The people I tend to see in the normal mode are bourgeois. At least, the working class are funny. They say funny things to you. If you can do ra bliss and then you have to converse with your usual bourgeois ... well, I spent two hours today doing the bliss, and it was wonderful and it had progressed. If I have a choice between doing the bliss and sitting quietly and doing nothing, and conversing with the evil bourgeois ... well, the evil bourgeois are dumb. Straights are stupid. The old, toothless one was great to talk to this evening, but what is the point of wasting your life in conversing with the appallingly idiotic, the evil bourgeois on the side. I want to stay in my hut, Jack! Then I will have overcome the Nicotine Dragon and the Beer Monster, and I will say to everyone no thanks. Sorry, I've got stuff to do. I'd like to be normal, but the normal is appalling.
There's no way back, Jack! No, Hotboy, there is no way back. I'm not a flatheid, at least, not as much as they are. And I'm not going to be normal ever again, so fung them! Just fung them! Even with all the compassion you could muster, there is no point in discoursing with flatheids. Not middle class ones! I'd rather blow my brains out, so I would!
But I will try to be normal tomorrow. But it's not going to work, is it, Jack? No, Hotboy, it won't work. Just try to be nice and don't talk to the flatheids about ra bliss. They are completely funged and doing that doesn't help.