how often we record things (concerts, while we attend them) so that we don’t forget those moments, but we’ll never watch those recordings and because we’re thinking about doing the recording while we’re there, we’re not fully attending, either, and we will not remember it well. So even if we did watch the recording, we will never fully experience that moment, and we don’t know what we’re missing, but we think we do (Dunning-Kruger eat your heart out).
how it’s as though we’ve unmoored from our time - each of us, every individual - by living less and less in the present, in the moment. We distract ourselves from the now, by splitting our attention between now and then, reducing our experience of both. Experience is (a form of) knowledge.
how, tonight, I feel like the 4 of cups (that’s a tarot reference). No wait: the 5 of cups. Which card has the guy at the bar, kicked back and brooding, in the steampunk deck? There might be books on shelves behind him. Maybe it’s a desk, not a bar, but his feet are on it and he’s pensive and unhappy. It’s that one. Maybe both cards apply (4 - discontentment; 5 - grief), but that’s the only card I can picture, of the two. I’ll look it up later.
how it’s like the bridge is out in whatever path my conscious thoughts have to travel in order to come out of my mouth. The bridge is out. Or sometimes, it’s guarded by a troll made of fear. But sometimes, it’s just out.
how if criminal laws aren’t enforced, they’re really just a schedule of fees. We should decriminalize poverty.
how sometimes, the weed makes me feel better than my baseline (so I can be productive and feel human) (so I can emulate normal and feel good about it), and sometimes the weed is overwhelmed by the task, and it only accomplishes raising me to my baseline, which is still south of functional but at least I’m not dying in my mind, so then I’m totally stoned but I still feel exactly like always except that my mind has slowed enough to hear itself and that’s why I write so much in those moments. I have to catch the words before they speed back up and they’re gone forever.
it’s the 4 of cups. His feet are on a desk, presumably in an office or library. The feeling is informed dissatisfaction. It’s the recognition that the current reality is shit, and there’s not much you can do about it. So you brood. Nothing is changing now, but eventually, it must.
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