Speaking of Camus, what if he had a blog? Here's an entry I'd imagine him writing:
I woke up early today because my room was cold and drafty. I was hungry, so I cooked some eggs and toast. My aunt called to remind me to wish my uncle a happy birthday, but I told her birthdays mean nothing to me and I probably wouldn't.
I went to the cafe. The cashier Collette told me that while she was driving to work this morning she cut off an old man who was going too slowly. She thought he may have crashed. It sounded like he deserved it, and I told her so.
I took a newspaper and read a story about dog fighting. The story said the dogs are kept hungry. When they fight, it's to the death. That seemed like a good system to me. I found the story interesting.
After reading, I went outside. I smoked a cigarette. The sun was hot on my face. I saw a group of schoolchildren walking to a museum. Then an old man and old woman walked by. I saw a gang of pickpockets. They did a good job taking the wallets of the tourists. After that I saw a deliveryman. Then my childhood friend saw me. He seemed pleased. I felt like I should say something, so I told him that when we fought over a soccer game at age ten, it wasn't my fault. He looked at me for a while and then left. I watched some pigeons eat some scraps of bread.
I was hungry, too. I went home, made some sausages, ate them, and smoked a cigarette. Then I went to bed.
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