A big, delicious slice of crazy pie.

I don't have a lot to do in Sydney. I am mainly killing time, spending money, and slowly dissolving my brain into insanity. It's akin to when you pour some hydrogen peroxide on an open wound, then it fizzles. My brain fizzles a lot of the time.
Sometimes to entertain myself and to not feel so bad about losing my marbles, I go to the park. I go to the park because the park is like a big crazy magnet. (I am well aware of the irony of going to the park to watch crazies, therefore perhaps admitting that I am one myself, so keep your clever comments. I've already curbed your wit with my own, more massive, Wit.) I just lay out in the sun with a bottle of water and let the grand performance begin.
The crown prince of the mentally deficient folks that I have seen so far in Sydney's Hyde Park was an older Indian man who was dressed in tight slacks and a sweaty blue business shirt. Not bad at first glance. I quickly noticed that he wasn't wearing any shoes, which is a bad sign considering one has to walk through several blocks of busy city streets in order to get to Hyde Park. He was also carrying a large, but empty, suitcase. I could tell it was empty because he swung it about him with relative ease, and he didn't strike me as a particularly muscular individual. Perhaps he was going on a vacation, he looked like he needed it. To cap off the spectacle, he was having a rather entertaining conversation with himself or an unseen entity. He would giggle with excitement every now and again, accentuating his comments with large flourishes of finger-waving from the hand not burdened by the suitcase. It's even more fortunate that he decided to take his trip during the lunch hour, because the park was filled with nervous-looking office persons hastily cramming down sandwiches and guzzling cups of hot coffee. My friend quickly acquired for himself a comfortable perimiter in which to conduct his mad symphony with the departure of several of the office workers from his swinging-suitcase event horizon. After several minutes of performance, the man departed for wherever it is people like that go after spending three hours in the park rambling to themselves. Maybe they go to internet cafes and write down all the crazy shit they saw the boring office people doing on their lunch breaks in the park.