Boredom is fragrant, like incense
It fills the house with its sweet, sluggish smell.
No wonder we get drunk on it.
Your boredom is as real as mine.
It is tumescent; it grows in size until it smothers you.
But still wants more.
Your boredom is near-numberless alternatives,
an abundance of choice with no room for decision.
In this serene paralysis of your thick, thick boredom
You, like me, wade through its stifling tide.
Proximity, immediacy and availability : these are the springs of your boredom
I think that our world requires boredom
To sustain the craving
To justify the feast
To keep you and I hungry.