Second day already. My, how the time flies when you’re having...er, no. Fun isn’t exactly the word. Who is this cretin, endlessly running - swimming? - about the place and filling it with ceaseless noise? A shark, he tells me, in between thunderous outbursts. Delightful. Although with the saving grace that as long as he is rampaging about, the organ he calls a brain is seemingly far too overtaxed to turn to thoughts of breakfast.

I’d go somewhere else if there were anywhere to go. Excuse me? Artist - for lack of a better word - person? How about some background? Both for me and my environment, if it’s not too much trouble. No? Still just me and a yelling idiot, and a whole lot of nothing? Well, I’m sure you’re doing you’re best. Sadly.

Must make the best of it, I suppose. Moronic companionship is better than no companionship, although I hadn’t planned on destruct-testing that particular hypotheses so soon. On the other hand, where two appear, more might follow, mightn’t they? I shall hope so.

There - that is a workable compromise between woolly faith and unforgiving observable evidence. One can hope for a desired outcome without descending into superstious begging for favors from an invisible, uncommunicative...higher...being...

Sigh. Tripped up again.

I wonder if Mr. Shouty the Shark over there has any thoughts on the matter? I suppose I’ll inquire, though the probability is low. Philosophy is a harder discipline than I thought...