Ouch I just got bit by the Coke machine outside the Irrational Students' Lounge.

And I got infested by Mind Leaches from reading the magazines in the Irrational Student Lounge. All of them are outdated but it took me a week to get JoJo Siwa out of my head. I had to see the nurse and get the treatment.

And I, @Alphonse Peru, found myself in a veritable plastic eden, full of shiny synthetic fruits and wonders, none of which could provide me true sustenance or satisfaction, and I was forced to chose among them and trade a portion of my own life energy for the pleasure!

I say! Let’s meet immediately in the Irrational Student Lounge and get to the bottom of this!

I guess I’ll start. Let the first meeting of the Irrational Students of Psyhigh come to order! Can I offer anyone a beverage? Water? Kombucha from Yuggoth? Cold brew ayahuasca? No? Ok.

Before coming to Psyhigh, I could take a bus downtown, buy a Monster or a Fang from the 7-11, and go to the mall and hang around outside Forever 21 and spit. 

Now, I have to catch a ride on an itinerant giant millipede when it shuffles by, haggle with some gnome over a flagon of refreshment, and when I finally get to the Mighty Ice Caves of Reberak some oversized dog-faced man with a badge chases me off with a battle axe!

I just want my life back.

Well I don’t have it near as bad as that. I just want these horns to sink back down into my head. 

I've been hanging out and discussing philosophy with he windowsill plant.

I have quite enjoyed my conversations with the ceiling fans, we go on and on about all sorts of things. I just feel like I can talk to them, ya know?
On an unrelated note, I believe that we should start a petition to get the Coke machine a teething ring of sorts, it gets quite chompy if it hasn't had it's afternoon snack, and the amount of Coke machine-related injuries reported to the nurse is becoming questionable.

I believe it's quite clear what's happening, if we look at it from an irrational perspective.

As recently as eight to twelve generations ago, when your great mammy mammy mammy mammy was sitting on her great grandapappy's knee (and so few of us remember their names now, do we?), the subterranean and (for the most part) invisible people lived as manifestations of nature, and inhabited the caves and rocks and streams and forests of the Earth.

Now, however, what used to be an enchanted glen or haunted wood is a strip mall, complete with a Starbucks (if you're lucky) and a Subway Sandwich Shoppe and a mobile phone center and a dry cleaner and a secondhand shop or two. The trees are plowed under and the asphalt drains its muck into their watershed.

And so what else were the Fair Folke to do but adapt? To be sure, no small number of their kind went extinct in the process (most usually the kinder, more delicate ones). But those that survived (the "fittest" as it were, the most prone to shape change and spirit transformation) learned how to inhabit their new environment. They took on the discarded shells of commerce itself! Coke machines, magazines, devices of mass transit and media, self-checkout interfaces, the act of "transaction" itself... even "shell" companies came to be named after their subtle behavior.

I propose to you that the shapes and forms of the disposable political economy of which we are inhabitants have become inhabitated by these ancient, eternal spirits! As easily as we cast off receipts, fast food drink cups. and memories of our visit to the convenience store, these sentient elemental forces take up their mantel and LIVE WITHIN THEM!

It is a coming of age for the Good People, and though the ones that have survived and started to inhabit our commerical-cultural eco-system also tend to be somewhat coarse, I feel it is a wonderful time to be alive and witness this transmigration of the Faerie into the fabricated world in which we find ourselves.

Well, that explains a lot, @Alphonse Peru. Like these little leaflets I found by the slushy machine at the HandyMart. They're the size of postage stamps (have you ever seen those? your mom uses them to mail Christmas cards?) and, using the "spy eye" microscope on my Psychic Army Knife, I can just make out the teeny tiny words:

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Wee Folk! Good Folk! People of Peace!

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and then there's some weird sigils.

What if we answered the ad?