At what point in time do our lives become so boring that the most we can manage out of a conversation is the inanity of leafing through a magazine remarking gems such as if so-and-so's kitchen could have used a different kind of patterned tile?
Random snippets, not even random thoughts, just bander innocuous enough to fill in the dead space hanging between two people sitting in a cafe. “Alfa Romeo has this new convertible. I think they've gotten away from basics”. And then bored silence to be broken by yet another similarly existentially vacuous comment.
I'm not looking for profundity in every statement. No life changing aphorisms of an examined life. Perhaps some passive participation in what we know as life. Some indication of awareness that you left the blinders at home today and walked outside beholding the world with some awe. Wonderment at its absurdity, and surreal elements where people feel empowered to spend $1 million on decorating an office, collect billions in bonuses and still let their companies report billions more in losses.