tinkering with the spiteful grimace on his face and growling out the uncontrolled words which pushed their way forwards, granting all the punishment that had been meted out in all the hollandaise or holidays before the quagmire of health and mental scarcity broke upon the shoals of quickly retreating camera angles and despairing monkeys that wallowed in the recesses of all the minds and qualitied folks who liked to stand and sit drinking their maitais and cosmopolitans, their tom collinses and milky dewdrops: which if examined closely would have been repulsed with disgust. to be sure, there was nothing to be said and only a distant few had focussed their attention on what?to be sure?had turned into a lengthy and problematic discourse on freedom and goodwill, which shattered into thousands of logistical and dialectical bits, eager to pronounce a thing good or bad, yet neglecting the simple and simply disquieting facts (or FAQs) which lurked in the foreground or background. the quiet press of cold flesh around him, eyes crinkling in cold regard, kept him pinned to the rhetorical prison that he had erected around about himself and he could feel his face tightening and thoughtful architects constructed ramps for him to flee upon. intuitively, several by-standers urged away sideways, prompting several flies to wave up into the air. ?where?s a conspiracy when you need one, he said, chortling and gulping down his cheap brandy. no one replied. he was caught in a pool of cool disregard and felt his autonomy and presence sliding into a black hole of social rejection? –might as well have been talking about dried monkey dung?.