Re: Diner: 1AM-ish
Reality was, in the most crass terms, shit. Shiloh had believed the reality inside Mother's home was a terror and the worst thing imaginable. And then he'd found worse, and that worse had turned everything over in Shiloh's head, and he was still trying to find the right way up. He sought it in all the usual ways and in all the usual places, but he thought maybe once things went to shit, then they remained that way somehow. As if knowledge took away the blindfolds required to believe the world was a game that could, in any real way, be won.
"I think the lack of choice is what makes these soirees in any way interesting. If we're given the opportunity to choose, don't we choose things we already know and are familiar with, are interested in? No, say I. If the world's going to turn me into something of an evening, then give me wings." He spoke loudly, dramatically, not caring that his voice carried clear across the diner. Being noticed was Shiloh's way of hiding, as it were. Or, once, it had been, and now it was just who he was down to the marrow. "But, tell me the true and important thing: Did you see him, this Patroclus, when he was himself? In the light of day, was he as interesting to you. Do you come with him to a diner and engage in-" here, the waitress came with hashbrowns, -"the consumption of hashbrowns?"
Shiloh wasn't much interested in who else the town fucked up. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't seem so dreadful to him. He understood that he was in the minority in feeling so, but he felt it all the same. "Maybe the evening just taught you that feeling, even bad things, is worth it? Or did it teach you the opposite?" He picked up his fork. "I admit to not caring much for lessons, but I suspect one can be found everywhere and in everything, as much as that sounds like an affirmation of sorts."