Being a "civilized" human is nuts. Being a writer is maybe a mental aberration. Throw the force multiplier of Tech into the mix and you've got an exponential hot mess. AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. Awe is equal amounts wonder and terror, and man, I'm on like my tenth cup of it. Writing is how I cope?
It's a bit cliche to say, but the internet is a lot like being on psychedelics. It's fucking weird. It's All The Things mashed together and also cryptically not as it appears. Eldritch. It's fun, but not entirely enjoyable. It's confusing, uncomfortable, stupid, suspicious, acrimonious. Connectively alienating. It's enlightening, but also infernal.
I wonder about "reality" and identity and crisis and uncertainty. I wonder about evolution, entropy, stasis, and the human condition. We STILL don't know what consciousness "is". Are we banging at the door of Fermi's Paradox and Hanson's Great Filter? Do we have enough knowledge to make the next leap, or just enough to disappear from the cosmos? Are we in charge of our destiny, or just on autopilot? Somewhere between? Do we know who we really are, what's really happening, or are we lost in delusion? I can feel all the existence we can't see, the greater truths, but I'm incapable of perceiving the whole.
Can the cosmos be drawn? We are so small, so tunnel-minded, and we lie about our height with comedic timing.
Am I even making sense? I didn't sleep good. Thanks for stretching my brain. It hurts, but I'm a fan of mental torment.
Captivating. I'm left with too many thoughts to share. They're fighting for attention at the moment.
That the naked saying the best writers do will me mangled and slotted into categories is the price to pay.
Gah. Where to start?
Being a "civilized" human is nuts. Being a writer is maybe a mental aberration. Throw the force multiplier of Tech into the mix and you've got an exponential hot mess. AND I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. Awe is equal amounts wonder and terror, and man, I'm on like my tenth cup of it. Writing is how I cope?
It's a bit cliche to say, but the internet is a lot like being on psychedelics. It's fucking weird. It's All The Things mashed together and also cryptically not as it appears. Eldritch. It's fun, but not entirely enjoyable. It's confusing, uncomfortable, stupid, suspicious, acrimonious. Connectively alienating. It's enlightening, but also infernal.
I wonder about "reality" and identity and crisis and uncertainty. I wonder about evolution, entropy, stasis, and the human condition. We STILL don't know what consciousness "is". Are we banging at the door of Fermi's Paradox and Hanson's Great Filter? Do we have enough knowledge to make the next leap, or just enough to disappear from the cosmos? Are we in charge of our destiny, or just on autopilot? Somewhere between? Do we know who we really are, what's really happening, or are we lost in delusion? I can feel all the existence we can't see, the greater truths, but I'm incapable of perceiving the whole.
Can the cosmos be drawn? We are so small, so tunnel-minded, and we lie about our height with comedic timing.
Am I even making sense? I didn't sleep good. Thanks for stretching my brain. It hurts, but I'm a fan of mental torment.