[There’s no way Ginsberg’s been looking at the communicator. No, it might as well not exist at all, although it is recording, although he's unaware of it. Instead, he’s sitting on the edge of the fountain, soaking wet, talking to… whoever happens to wander by -- and, apparently, to the network, as well.]

Where am I? Is this some kind of drug induced hallucination? Because let me tell you right now, I don’t do that kind of thing. If someone snuck something into my coffee, I’m gonna be mad. I keep telling everyone, that stuff makes me paranoid. And now something’s making me hallucinate a whole city.

[He scrubs a hand across his face, shaking the water out of his hair as he does so.]

I have work to do. This account, this Manischewitz account, I have to get to the meeting.

[A slight grumble, and then…]

Not that I want to go, anyway. If someone could point me back to Madison Avenue, though, that’d be great. Really great. In fact, look, I’ll buy you lunch or something if you can get me out of here. Just get me out of here.

[He puts his head in his hands.]

I don’t know what the hell’s going on...

[It starts with cursing, with some fumbling with the device: and this is why Peter never wanted Roman's fucking iPhone. Jesus fuck how do you get this thing to work?]

Yo.

[There's finally a wave of fingers, although it seems lackluster. Flat blue eyes set into a scruffy face as the image finally catches something more engaging than the floor swings into view. Oh, hey. He's in a pair of boxers that look a little overworn, and he's on the furry side for a teen boy as slender as he is. There's a stylized 'g' tattooed on the left side of his ribs.]

Does anyone have any smokes? I don't do charity, but I'll trade something for it.

[There is a pause, he seems like he's about to cut the feed, but there's a moment of hesitance that ends in mute cursing. He doesn't care, none of this fucking matters. Fuck this place.]

And pants. I guess.

Dear City,

Has anyone ever wondered about the ridiculous choices available in condoms? Or what they mean?

If you buy ribbed condoms, exactly who is that for? And what does it say to your partner? Those bumps are so small, you can hardly feel them with your fingertips. I doubt someone's orifices will notice the difference. What, then, is the subtext? That your junk lacks the requisites they find satisfying? 'So, I got ribbed condoms because my dick lacks flair. Or maybe flare.' 

That doesn't bode well.

And what's with the coloured ones? Those in green -- do they make you fantasize about comic book heroes? Or does the idea of a green schlong make you think of gangrene and that they'll probably have to amputate? The yellow ones. Hepatic dysfunction comes to mind. I have no idea what to say about the blue numbers, except I doubt anyone's enjoying it. Tissue hypoxia does it for no-one. The reds just make me think of elongated clown noses. Those are creepy enough on a clown. You don't need them between anyone's legs. And black. I wish I knew what to say about black. Once you roll them on, they don't exactly look black. More like a dull grey, which reminds me of zombies. If you ride too hard, will it fall off?

Then there's the brandnames. Durex has an intimidating 'dure' message that says: you'd better go for hours and like it. Trojans disturb me for several reasons. No one enjoys the 'Trojan Horse' implications. Hung like a horse might be a compliment, but fatal surprises aren't. Lifestyle makes you think of underhanded marketing strategies. All I feel for them is postmodern despair. Bravo seems like you're congratulating someone before the show's even started. In most of Asia, the popular brand is OK, which is equally anti-climactic. I guess it's just OK for them.

Lastly, there's the issue of the amount of condoms. I've wondered about it for a long time. Is a 12-pack too desperate? Does it signify overachievement? Then again, the 5-pack seems a little condescending. Like you've got valid reasons to lower expectations. And just 1 condom? Don't get me started.

Sure, choice and variety are liberating. But is it worth the angst?

( Options For Run-Ins )

[ ooc: No, Hei hasn't lost his mind. However the senseless post has a coded message for Pai. ((Earday Arflowerstay, odecay Green Yellow Blue. Outway of ellcay. Imway OK. at st 151. In other words:  Dear Starflower, code Green Yellow Blue (re: All Clear). Out of cell. I'm OK.  At street 151.)) Blue highlights not ic, but can be if you'd like to go that route for funsies! Replies will be anonymous and untraceable! also, backtagging will be mighty, since I am a slow hiatusaurus<3 ]