It's funny these objects or places that have an anchor effect on our lives. A lighter, a phone, humans even, or to some the bodega across the street, a coffee mug. We're creatures of habit. Attachments are useful. Attachments are a form of spiritual gravity. Gravy. Placeholders like breadcrumbs on a path of familiarity. The songs that define phases, sometimes they're discarded or kept, nostalgic riffs which act as bridges to bind the rifts for our footing.
Our personal scrapbooks have little value to anyone but ourselves, but these days our scrap booking is not only public but often sloppy. With post modernism being so mainstream these days, when we are compelled to keep things brief and meaningful, stream of consciousness has never been so in. As our opinions scatter and merge to reenforce a sense of meaning, validation is the drug that'll define these times. Algorithms are pried for power. Patterns are scattershot trying to find life. They avoid atrophy in cozy layers of amalgam. And the new brain is a cynic disguised as a revolutionary.
Likes, loves--retweets are the cocaine that'll send us reeling for the next fix. Everyone's a writer, a poet, an intellectual these days. We scan our manicured coffee foam for the perfect aphorism. We sip our brewed awakenings--we lol at our own stupid puns and exchange love to those who initiate & follow suit.
Foam from an agitated leaf sits on our upper lip like a mustache: "leaves...change color, our times are changing...I reach for change & finger a hole that leads to a forest - SEND. I reach for my phone & touch your hand instead #love - SEND. My screensaver is of your hand...*holds screenshot of yr hand against my face* - SEND.
What are we doing to ourselves by seeming/feeling more useful then we actually are by complaining. We are witty. We are relevant. Stars in a our shifting universe of attitude. Stars of our own life story. Sometimes anonymous. In plain sight, we are cying for attention.
But if we step outside, the fear is like the weather. We are beholden to it. Ever shrinking and colossal at once, we stew in our detachment - SEND. When we meet we expect the worst. When we're shown light, we are skeptics for the warmth which might be taken away - SEND. But what can we do besides do what others do and this is what we've always done, lest we be crucified for our trend-fucked opinions.
We are Feminists. We are proud to be obese. We group shame, what we used to do to witches, one negative comment and we are banished or burned alive. Our names are beaten. We are distracted. We are blind to that one negative act which perpetuates a triple negative repulse. And this is not helping, the way we get offended so easily these days. This is not strength. This is a generalized decline. Armies devouring other armies and the enemy is a name. The enemy is COPS. The enemy is in DC. The enemy is ISIS. The excuse is racism. It used to be terrorists. AIDS. It used to be cholesterol. It used to be COMMUNISTS. JAPS. JEWS. A conglomerate has parts. And we are terrified as a whole.