March 11, 2021

Lose yourself

Sometimes I’m writing and really get outside the text processor but not quite as far as beyond the screen. I’m dancing on a digital frontier, peeking over the edge of an editor window at the wallpaper plastered behind it.

I open my papers library and furiously start shifting backgrounds until one sticks, then furiously shift again to make sure it’s right. When I’m in the mode to write I need the right environment, and every alteration adds friction to the process. I can never get quite as lost as I want to be.

It’s essential to not have a damned clue where you are when you start writing because that’s the only way you can be sure you ended up somewhere new.

Vaporwave laxatives

Today at the pharmacy I gazed upon brilliant packaging for bowel bubblers. Intestine ticklers. Gut gravy. Inner-abdominal aerodynamics.

So many medications had boxes that would make your eyes bleed so you’d end up with an even longer receipt. Not this one. Something about it was cool. I could imagine Morpheus opening this box over the strobe-lit sink at a rave.

Something about it told me the package designer did not intend for it to be perceived the way it was, and that makes it all the more sincere.

Sincerity in the scaffolding

Some things feel better than others, and you ought to act on the intuition that guides you toward what’s good. Then grab an x-ray machine, laser-splicer, endoscope, and tweezers to take it the hell apart. Ask yourself what makes it better and treat yourself to the answer.

I’ve found it to frequently parallel with the past. How an object, idea, service, sermon, community, or pound cake came about can tell you why it’s deserving of your delegation.

History ain’t ancient and abstract—it’s eight minutes ago when you took a last swig of lukewarm coffee and weaseled your way to this wordstuff.

Motives. Karmic consequence. Momentum. Don’t follow the money, follow the molecule.


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