apoplexy

I swore I wouldn’t.

Because more electronic text is hardly what the world needs.

Because I keep my thoughts to myself.

Because neither your laptop screen nor mine needs more face time.

But here it is, a blog. I’m not technologically savvy and would rather be out walking with the curiosity of a child in the tipped-up sunshine, or reading, or hanging out, than trying to figure out how to soup this thing up and craft any kind of cover beyond a plain brown wrapper. Which is not the visual of the Looking Glass. Anathaema in the reputation economy…

But I have decided not to care. We are all coated in plastic. There’s a different kind of medicine, that makes it go down easier… it’s called, your choice. There is nothing captivating. There are no tricks. And there are no bad decisions.

So I guess we’ll dissolve the surface of the enteric coating. And if not, we’ll pretend it was good for both of us, just different… and keep moving.

This blog, I guess, is an exercise in being a node. Fidelity to the unit of the group, all the way through, because that’s the experiment.

The weave is a pattern called “American neurosis as we mouse into the age of surveillance technology and rule by ignorant, opinion-polling experts.” Antidepressants are ubiquitous, else you’d recognise it more often.