Engagement
farming. How interesting is that! I wonder if it applies to our past, to our
definition of things, or knowledge of what it happened, on what we think it
happened. It’s kind of like a postulations pool, I bring something up and it
will turn slowly into my personal vision which is, not necessarily, the truth
of the whole. So we’re back picking concise crumbs from a bigger abstract cake.
Our concise, not the concise, again; not necessarily. How harmless is that? A
meeting is set. Friday has turned into afternoon. Another week saying goodbye to
life. Office is quiet. I remember noisier times. Not here, there, where noise
collected joy as it gets. I’m not saying there’s no joy in here. I believe that
offices have a common ground when it comes to people’s behavior despite the
cultural differences. This is more than a halfway meeting. I gave to pay. I
have to pay a lot. I need to put that down. I’m optimistic today. Estrogen, it
feels good when I’m surrounded by them. I feel like I want to do more, go
further; improve. I feel this impulse to be better when I am with my son. I
guess it’s natural. I was trying to get a better explanation of this
connection, but my social media burnout pose won’t let me, so I guess I will
have to make it up. So be it. Enjoy! In a kind of Charles Xavier style, I let
my thoughts out of my head, and everyone does it the same way, we can’t just
see them, but get them in our way, when driving, when walking, when trying to
come up with own thoughts. It’s a mute noise, like the white noise, but unable
to be heard. It’s more like an abstract picture. In fact, sometimes we get to
see some pieces, but not the whole thing, not anyone’s at least. We barely see
our own. The streets are full of those, of the living, and of those not around
us anymore. Incomplete pieces that hold on for years to be decoded, and
therefore understood. I want to make sure my son will get all mine at least.
Not that they are the most valuable pieces of thoughts, but certainly they will
be some of those he can decode when the time comes. This is something we don’t do by ourselves. We
need God, Angels, past lives souls to get every needed piece. You see, we’re
talking about different universes and chronologies, about different places and
figures.
Coffee
smell. Voices asking. A space of silence from time to time. No answer to state.
Emails to take care to. Spring and its moments. We just came back from the
screenings. I felt this urge for checking if anyone has ever yet reacted to any
of my social media posts. I have this fantasy in my head that I am some sort of
discoverer, or it is just my ego playing with my thoughts and making me think
that whatever I found, or create, constitutes somewhat something interesting
for some people on the other side of the screens. The void when nothing is
found, grows bitter and increase my intolerance, also my time spent on those
feeds looking for nothing but wasting myself as it was a cigarette, a cigarette
I light to see my questions floating with the smoke I exhale. I have exhaled
enough for these days. I want more flour in my life. These diets and their
crusades against wheat. Sometimes I think cigarettes brands sponsor such campaigns
so people worry more about sugar intake than tobacco or alcohol. Don’t get me
wrong, I love alcohol, and I hardly get
wasted because of it. I get more wasted on social media, it is a stronger drug.
Funny videos
and cool pictures to then check who saw them a make up a whole narrative out of
it. That person saw my profile, I can tell because of the recommendations to
follow now. We have no people in common,
or we do, but I don’t talk to them, I just see their posts as I suppose
they see mine. They want to know what I’m up to, if I am in better situation or
I keep hanging in there like all of them. Immigrants and our picturesque view
of life, of society. Virtual society
nowadays. A few messages back and forth.
We’ve got to keep the diplomacy, we may
not know when do we need her, him, them. They are full of shit, perhaps, but
there is always the chance of success on the next move, and we all want to be
close to the successful, but not yet, no
while they remain as they are now. It is just in case, just that. The narrative
goes on, my life become archetype to model, I can see them copying me. I need
to expand my spectrum: the world is more interesting than this. Yes, but nobody
knows me, or give a fuck, only those I don’t speak to, so we ignore each other in
the real world. We all have to work and pay after all. So there is not really
too much time for the immense, nor for making peace, so we keep it in here, in
the void, a void full voices, names and memories, all silent by the present and
the unsure; the unknown. Better wonder than find out.
I see myself
cool, still cool, after all. I can see it when she smiles at me. I believe I
still got it. It can’t be just politeness,
it can’t be because I refuse myself to it, besides, there is always a post suggesting me that
this may be real, and may be is enough to trap myself into it. So I let my
imagination fly, fly high and create a whole possible new reality, a successful
one, so everyone comes back to talk to me again and flatter me this time. I woke
up. I wasn’t even sleeping. It’s time to
go. Duties always knock on and out.
I’ll wait sounds in
my ear, only one. I have to pay attention. Words coming in but with no story to
place, instead, I’m just putting pieces together. Pieces of faith, of hope, and
laugh at the suggested scenarios. In the end those things might never get to
happen. I think I better go outside.
