This whole trialogue between the shoulder-dwelling spirits (angel & demon scenario, I’ll admit, yes—except that both shoulders feature only demons in this case) in which my own inner voice is much quieter than either demon’s, and neither one much includes me in the conversation’s focal pts. That they, the unique yet equally demonic demons, could and would parlay w/ one another about any given subject: for instance: The two well-educate professorial adults conversing beside me at their own table about the difficulties involved in teaching: this some subject’s own restraints interrelating to their daughters’ own upbringings and educations. Point (w/h/y) being that, no matter the fucking conversation, these demons’ opinions and projected-and-(yet-un-)-yet-trialogically-affected points being so formed and well-articulated and loud they overwhelm even my own (points), such that even now it begins to feel as if my thoughts are no longer my own; that they are the subconsciously conjured meanderings of two autonomous shoulder-sitting demons.
Note on this note:
I remember vaguely I was at the coffee shop whose name begins with a large golden O, sitting by myself at the public table in the rearmost part of the seating area, just before the restroom. I remember I was just sitting there trying to think of what I might write or edit when I began tuning in (as I easily do) to the conversation occurring between the two professors sitting across one another just to my left. I remember many details were lost and that I couldn’t possibly have gotten all of them down anyway what with my lack of longhand speed and the whole situation being rather strange in some way in and of itself. It was this neat idea of mine to start out with the typical movie-conversant Angel v. Demon scenario, wherein two spiritual energies often humanistic and all made-up (w/r/t the whole appearance factor) sit on either shoulder and debate with the human on whose shoulders they sit about whichever moral dilemma is at hand, except that (apart from maybe conceivably eavesdropping on these professors having their coffee, making conversation) there is really no moral to be had or parsed and that actually both the spirits turn out to be demons—no bipolarity. This idea, festering like a great sore, became nothing. I just wrote it down while I had the energy and wherewithal. That’s really all there is to this one.