Next Day

Being forced to abide or being able to complain, that’s the new dilemma, I guess. How much time do you think you need to contemplate your feelings toward your worries? I heard this is a design, an upper further design. Would it be true after all? Some people claimed they had foreseen some of it, and it seems to be happening all around the world. 2026 has been a special year. For a writer, it would be surreal to come up with all this happening, but they are and have; indeed, the happenings, not sure about the writers, really. Venezuela commemorates The Battle of Carabobo every 24^th of June. Yesterday, there were two rare earthquakes near Caracas and part of the city fell apart. People started feeling them when frames and platery began to crash towards the floor. We decided to take a walk. Nothing was close. Two big avenues with two very narrow sidewalks. Everything with a big parking lot. It took me some time to realize it: this is a motor town (Motown). So I decided to have a look at it. I was trying to frame this concept within the boundaries of my footsteps, and that’s where my body started resisting and my head started aching. This is how it feels when going out, when getting informed about family from home.  

 

Today, social media is a redux of feelings. I guess no one cares in real life, I don’t know. Maybe it’s more like a lost space. We feel in combos of time and news driven through our phones. We can’t blame ourselves; we did not get here without a push. What do we do when we see our walls cracking? I panic, and panic will freeze me out. Would it be possible that the daily work nonsenses we heard are, somehow, an encrypted language that makes these doings turn into feelings, to be prepared for whatever is coming up? Is that a crazy thought at all?  It was a long night. Many people know that it will be very hard to recover from this disaster, given the circumstances the country has been through in the last twenty years. Roads flow with the English language. This disaster was felt in Spanish. That explains why straight follows ahead, and right may follow there or here; right now, and right away too. I guess the communication is like driving a vehicle; ideas go, stop, park, and make it to the left or right, politically, and economically; certainly, and absolutely. It’s hard to remain focused these days. We hold on to people’s lives. Life is what matters the most, and this is true; it’s just that our homeland and our people have gone through a lot already. I guess we all wonder what now!

 

Horror movies have always shown us that the unknown entities' approach starts when the platery and the frames hung on the walls begin to fall.  These words are taking place the next day, the day after, but I don’t think they will come out anytime soon. As we’ve learned with our moving out, hometown feelings and thoughts must be put on hold since current obligations hardly allow them to gravitate on shift time. I guess we’ll get to the point when we’ll schedule some time off to feel and acknowledge but how long would that be? Never mind, it’s just a thought lost in the need of context. I think I will make it after all. Why is " platery " a wrong word, by the way? How is it supposed to be called? Now they have to return to their homes, not knowing if it’s safe or right, because there’s nowhere else to go for many, and we’re here, watching and aching, all because of a few who made decisions for many. Let’s see how they’re doing. Let’s send some support! 

Uncured

 

How do they do that?

What?

Make me believe this is interesting.

It is indeed interesting.

How?

You didn’t know it, and now you do.

But that’s my point. Did I want to know it? It’s not like I was searching for it.

They thought you were.

They didn’t think I was. They made it appear that way.

Just like anything else. You might wonder how they get to be assertive instead.

Are they assertive?

Are they not?

What if it’s not assertiveness but conditioning, predisposition, more likely?

Anything can be data, and making data a sort of information seems to be their job.

Can we stop it?

Why would you want to stop it?

It makes me feel dumb.

We’re all dumb in a way. That’s how data becomes information.

Information is not truth.

Right. It’s connection; Harari.

But I will forget it soon. What’s the point?

Keep the information flowing.

But it’s not information, it’s data.

We’ll take it as information, and as truth for comfort.

I am not comfortable.

You will be at some point. You just feel a little bit disconnected, but it’ll pass.

What if it won’t pass?

They’ll find a way. You will be subscribed to or approached about something you didn’t ask for, and they will redirect you, just like a misbehaving child in a Pre-K classroom.

But this is not happening everywhere.

It is in its own way. There is this illusion that staying away from social media will reconnect you with whatever you’ve been feeling detached from. The thing is that being disconnected is also part of the data processing. I would call it curation.

I think that’s what we all do in social media: help them curate.

And we do it for free, for that satisfactory feeling that now you know something you didn’t before. Then you’ll share it and help them with the data curation. Then you’ll forget it, and it’ll start all over again.

How long have we been like this?

Time is relative. Your past is held by your memories; the ones you can recall because they were attached to a feeling. But you will start to forget a lot of it eventually. Let’s say they could be replaced by data. Some sort of blockchain technology on humans.

So, we are tokens now?

Only that your value, what you think you're worth, might still be subjective.

You mean, it’s not data that can be processed.

It’s not curated, it would say.

How close are they to it?

Time is relative.

How far can we delay the inevitable?

The future is uncertain. We still don’t know the certainty of the inevitable.

But we are capable of spotting the inaccurate.

For now, we should enjoy it while we can.

So that’s it?

We can still read books and drink wine. That hasn’t changed in a minute.

And we can still love as well.

See? Where is your discomfort now?

I guess it’s turning into data like everything else. 

Wire transfer

 

Is it an improvement coming from Rock Music to Reggaeton? Let’s order a pizza, she said. I was choosing what to have when I got a message in my email inbox stating that a wire transfer had been initiated. That’s when the dehumanized-post-covid-neo-political-correct-no-assistance-at-all cascade started.

Aside from ruining my whole afternoon with these new and unpredictable issues, and after a forty-five-minute wait, the dispute has taken place. Money was gone then. Can a celebrity take pride in becoming a Reggaeton fan? It bothers me, and I don’t understand myself why I need to, why I do.

Time went by, and a promotion pops up on my social media feed: a concert, a rock band concert I would like to attend. She asked me about any age restrictions, you know, so we can take our son with us. Yes, he’s young; he is only four, but it would be great to take him. I guess it won’t be a problem. I just need to make sure and get the right information.

How many times does the opposition leader of Venezuela (The only one left after all the disasters so far) have to agree on attending these uncomfortable interviews?

Apparently, anyone with a login and a password can initiate a wire transfer. It seems that working with your Word license in another computer is more serious than moving all your money from your bank account.

No information about age restrictions: not in the ticket seller, not in the place or the venue, where the concert is taking place, and nothing in the band’s website either as I found out. Just like a transaction dispute, I have to write and/or call to get my answer. The bank sent a letter stating that the wire transfer complied with whatever regulations they abide so the money can remain gone, and my claim non-understood.

The ticket seller replied, stating that my request, meaning just a simple question, couldn’t be answered by them but by somebody else who seemed to be the true ones in charge of the event. Obviously, I appealed, and I’m still waiting for such results. The truly ones in charge replied as well. They said that the ticket sellers are the ones I should ask for this information. My bank told me something like that too; that I have to dispute the transaction with the unknown bank where the money went.

The ticket seller representative wrote me back again, suggesting me to try the place’s website to get my answer. The bank told me that I can always go to the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. Which I did, and I am still waiting as well. I couldn’t talk to anybody. I was sent from one robot to the next one until I was given the chance to leave a message: I just want to know if there are any age restrictions, and of course, I need my money back and reverse all the chain of after happenings.

And yes, another unhelpful interviewer on the Venezuelan cause… Wire transfers, indeed!