Tenth page II

 

Here we are. This should go before but I don’t know.  I have just failed a grammar test. I guess I won’t get any job at this since it seems I’m not good at all. That doesn’t keep from continuing here, specially now, that I’m this alone. I don’t want to get distracted from my sadness. I have to make something good out of it. Whatever it may be. I pick my nose meanwhile. There’s too much to take out, from my mind, from the closets of the house, and from my nose, of course. The variants of what you said are now pushed into what you may have meant, aiming to open up a void of possibilities, enforced then by celebrities and mass media. So it’s not what happened anymore but what certain celebrity said it happened. Those are the our sources now, and that is the extend of our research. Don’t get me wrong. I may have fallen into that as well. Specially when I feel this I-don’t-how-to-call-it need to keep scrolling on social media apps, even when I don’t want to – specially when I don’t want to – it seems there is some place in my mind stating that I can’t contemplate what I think anymore but keep myself busy on something else the new media pulls up.  It’s kind of like an occupation, like a parasite: something lives inside a needs to be fed, fed out of social media. Even when going to the bathroom, or in bed, not only when waiting. I went for a walk once in a park nearby. There was a WI-FI zone, and there were like twenty,  perhaps more, gathered there with their phones just to keep up with their apps. They didn’t look like they were working the way we see people on laptops at coffee shops. They were standing and focus on their phones. The parasite wouldn’t let them do the walk, or whatever they first wanted to do there that day. So this is how we are now.

It's to early to wake up. It’s Sunday, and it’s raining. I need to go back to bed. Sun is there nonetheless. It’s been quiet but also fine. I wanted to find some more about catfishing or block chain mindset but I ended up laughing at sexist jokes and the ex boyfriends of Taylor Swift. That’s the relevance of my feeds from social media. The accuracy of the algorithm based on my interest. You know what? I think it may be a lie. I have this idea inoculated; that the internet apps have refine all my searches and feeds based on my interests. That’s what I’m supposed to believe.  So I have somehow get convinced that show business and celebrities gossiping is actually an interest for me. I don’t think so. I don’t want to accept it. I prefer to accept the simulation theory first. I prefer to embrace that we are programmed and controlled, but not this. So whoever controls me, please. You know I don’t care about those things. Don’t keep me away from wisdom. Wisdom is my big time quest, and you know it. Take advantage of me and make me wiser, not dumber, please! It’s enough already living as poor, don’t add stupidity too, I beg. Silence. Silence and whispers. Whispers of names and plans. Unmade plans. Plans turned into wishes, into merely desires drowned in a sip of wine, or thrown after a sigh of smoke. They go away. The get mixed with all those letters and messages floating in the air. They get confused with someone else’s.  Everyone has got plans thrown as desires: throw back Thursday,  throw again Monday: it may be why it get blue. I still got the blues, not only Gary… and my legs are getting numb from such a long time sitting in the restroom.  I feel like I’m going to be sick. I feel as I was wiping, as I was talking my pants on. I need a pill. I need money.  I’m tired of running after commitments. Salary vanishes as my once plans now desires. My imagination works hard on creating these parallel worlds. Worlds in which I’m successful and desired. I better get back to work. My second office, this is where I let go so many of my inside burden, either through my fingers or my ass. I was thinking about these posts status that only last twenty four hours, and how many hidden dedications they lie beneath. The fact that I post a message “randomly”, because what it says it worth the sharing, because this is what we do at the end: share. It just doesn’t match with our words, with our lives. But that’s how we want to be seen, to be understood,  as the living being that pledges and gets inside those words, those messages.  I don’t know what I’m looking for with this hurry over social apps. I first open them, and then nothing. What do I want to find? In case I do find something, it may not be good. Good things come unnoticed,  unexpected,  mostly.  Unless you had already worked for it, but that’s another story,  right? I expect to learn how to refrain from too much distraction and focus on what matters: my family,  my people. Those who I pretend to ignore. Conveniently, comfortably numb is in my ear, one, yes, I’m still working.  In fact, I shouldn’t be writing this now, but then when? Yeah, the drama and the dilemma. Our always picturesque sense and view of life…  I’m losing it. It’s hot but it’s not summer. In fact,  it’s going to rain soon, but it’s sunny now. Again, waiting in the car. Like I said it before, this has to be refunded from our lives. It’s just not fair to waste on waiting.  This should be rewarded somehow, someday, something good should happen. Alcohol can not always be the diluent of bad memories. There must be something more, else, further, along, and at least. Toddler’s shout out loud inside the car, while waiting. Only to make it funnier. Again: picturesque. I’ve got to go back!