The system exists because we allow it to exist. A false ghost eating artificial things. We tolerate it because it is convenient. Because without it there might be chaos, there’s too many of us, we’re too clever for anything else. We allow it to exist because within it we might also orient ourselves. Put us in a solid time and space.

Our connections make it work. Intimates: jokes, kissing, secrets. When these are lost, the system is too. It loses all relevance. It is nothing and supports nothing. And when it becomes swollen with artificiality, a bloated hungry creature on creaking joints, it begins to forget. Why does it need the people it is supposed to protect? It tries to feed us to keep us happy, so it might go about its business unencumbered, but without connections we can’t be fed. The food might satisfy, for a while, but what we always want is more.

I feel like I’m eighty years old.

I hope this is my last post.



    But it’s a feeling more than anything.

    From a moldy old sci-fi paperback that I bought for some inexplicable reason.

  2. Just when I think I know what you’re referring to, you take another turn.

    I hope this is my last comment.

  3. AJS: Sure, maybe, if I last that long. Thanks, though. That’s a booster.

    Sasha: This song? Not about you.

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