How to be in a not so beautiful world

Static occupancy of the mind
The echoes of Capital
Fashion's nuances
Death is an event

"I came, I saw, I conquered."
Harold Bloom cannot do this.

And what can one say? Will there be a time? Prufrock sounds so confident there will be. Is he merely mocking himself? Truly we all want to say there will be a time. We shy away though. We are strong in cynicism; there is comfort in pride. But what is your time like? Why do we always make a big fuss about life and call it words like existence. It is in playing the man. We are all players Shakespeare says. Perhaps we must choose to play the part and not really be this or that. Perhaps this is what it is to be self-conscious.