"Fucking zombie shit."
I watch animated bodies shamble across arbitrary finish lines with the enthusiasm of a migraine. When they do break their own personal tape of an arduously common and exceptionally normal race completed, they mull around, confused. "This is it, right?", they say. "This is what we were expected to do. I've won."
They congratulate each other with plastic smiles and impatiently wait to extol their own already obsolete virtues to their company-in-misery.
It's an issue of aging neuroplasticity, possibly. Or maybe an evolution of societal complacency. Or perhaps centuries long media indoctrination.
I watch people grow soft, sad, insipid, and stale, and cannot applaud them.
Concession is not victory. It's not the neutrality of a zero.
It's the spoilage of waste, with the catalyst of willfulness.
8:45 p.m. - 2015-01-15
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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