Ah yes, the modern equivalent of smoking cigarettes and penning poems.
Chain-Zynning and typing on my infinite information machine.
It's interesting when you think about it...
The notebook is brilliant because there is no information there other than the information you *put* there. It is blank and you fill the pages with meaning. Somehow, someway.
A computer, on the other hand, is near-infinite. Is it infinite? I don't know how I'd be able to prove that. When I write on the computer, like I am now, I often feel that I'm just pissing and shitting into the trough of information that is literally milliseconds away.
I digress.
I intend to write today about literally anything that will make it okay to fall asleep tonight. Because I know, for certain, that my current internal state will absolutely | most definitely | postiive!y | do anything it can to prevent that from happening.
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The truth is that I do not do enough to embrace and to learn. I have not been able to shake the feeling that something is so so wrong in the world.
*in the world*.
Such a pretentious statement... I wish there was a more beautiful way to say that.
For the last few months I have been circling some ideas about this, but the problem thus far is that the ideas are barely verbal.
I am a sensory thinker mostly, which is different than a visual one.
Images appear and they appear with feelings in my gut, or my lower chest, or my neck. Sometimes I can taste thoughts or smell them. I mean this quite literally.
So far, all of these thoughts aBoUt thE woRLd are mostly these amorphous feeling-tone-senses that I still cannot touch much less confidently articulate outside of internal conscious experience.
I have begun to enumerate them here: [[100Things.pdf]].
This is still unsatisfying so far.
It's difficult to tell whether I'm on to something or not.
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And so it begins. I've often tried to turn towards the world and seek real meat.
But it is fickle.
I am particularly prone to the internet slop which is why I write about it with such disdain.
I have not reached a point where I feel comfortable going to bed, but I think that was a bad goal.
I end now.