It’s been a few humbling weeks and between those weeks so a revelation came swiftly, rendered as – retrospectively – an aghast obvious fact.
Why, why, why do I type here rocking back and forth and clipping nails. Well, of course! It’s because today I went on a walk around my suburban block and there’s absolutely nothing to do, no one to talk to, nothing going on – nearest store is a solid 2 mile walk or more. I don’t want to board a Death Machine any-time soon: no preorders for cybertrucks, rest assured.
So Godspeed you, those who embark the virtual world. Godspeed! And hopefully you’ll let me join as an observer: keep the position firm, because if I had full control I’d be catatonic.
When you have endless pavement for a walk, persistent sun lodged in a humid forecast lasting a fortnight or more – well, the whole Summer into Autumn – what else, what else shall one do?
I used to look at virtual reality glasses with a mild smug disgust: I’ll never give in! I won’t let the demons make me forget about the real world!
But then I trace these statements to their origins and the origins are Not Found. When was or where was this real-world reality left? What was this precious Real World so obscured? All there seems to be is radiated asphalt. All there seems to be are the faceless drivers passing by the sadly now maverick act – and rightfully so, let’s be honest – walking around this Suburban colony.
I don’t got no skyscrapers (and no homeless either with needles splayed about noted from previous stints in previous cities thankfully removed since it’s all a scam with the parasitical economy that I lavishly partake in at distances anyway, don’t ever assume I have any righteousness honestly) – but I don’t really care because it’s all artifice anyway.
So yeah, I will huff the tech in. I will join the virtual opium dens – not as a resolute resident, but a loitering around, amusing myself with the sloth-like reaching for another pipe.
Down the virtual corridor I will spot the righteous hail a mighty force upon the transgressed, soon guillotined – pass the corner I will sift through the thirty newspapers reading between diaries and naiveté. Through the bridge so upon the horizon our newly coded insane asylum cuts the ribbon, beds as go-carts down to the cafeteria with whatever strange concoctions paraded.
Upon my grave so I’ll request a virtual one be made, with some USBs pouched beside and swaying in the bitter wind, sourced from a world I never had a chance to partake in.