Zak was giving up caffeine in order to better himself as a person. He’d thrown his iPhone into a river and shouted: “I don’t need you, palmtop digital sex!” the day before after reading too many articles about the dangers of technology. Due to the impassioned nature of the commentary, he didn’t fully understand what they were saying, but, given his underdeveloped emotional intelligence, he was ready for some kind of revolution. Zak had a lifestyle that had given way to the cerebral, compromising existing on a physical plane for the virtual, a digital consciousness hilariously manifested on Twitter. His low key observations, punctuated by dry remarks, amassed a crowd of wry smiles. Zak just didn’t know any different.
Zak worked at a smoothie bar next to library. He went on twitter:
i’ve been thinking
i am going to quit my job
and leave the internet
i am going to pursue my dream of being a fisherman
or maybe a vicar
i don’t know right now
how easy is it to be a vicar?
i could be a vicar
watch me pass the interview
what do they ask in church job interviews
i don’t have a favourite bible story
maybe abraham whatever
i have to go back to work
He looked out of the window of the smoothie place which was called ‘Smooth Joobs’ and saw a homeless man. He made a banana and strawberry smoothie and thought about his ex-boyfriend – he was always clearing his throat, “You probably have cancer, or something. Something bad.” he told him, he replied with a series of gestures and facial expressions indicating sadness and confusion – “Why would you say that?” why would he say that? “I don’t know.”
Zak quit his job and went back to his flat. He masturbated and passed out, awoke three hours later, and masturbated again. It was a celebration, I guess. He wanted to go to the library and read war books but it was closed, this caused him to become frustrated which manifested itself in masturbation. i am a masturbatory human. He thought. He posted on his blog about leaving the internet:
I am leaving now because I’m bored. I’m shaving my head and I am going to masturbate and watch Jerry Springer and then I will leave London and buy a boat. I want to sail. No, a motor boat. I can’t swim and I’m afraid of spiders and I hate Top Gun and I want to kill people but only sometimes and I’m going to quit being vegan and order a steak at restaurant and I’ll be sick. Don’t call me a cyborg anymore. Robots aren’t cool.