The First Day
On the first day he said let there be light.
Well here I am giving up all the convenience of the CMS editor. Writing in markup. A child of AI. Not used to writing on my own. Alone. Unable to comprehend a world where everything is not done for me. A caveman. A Luddite. But not because I use the tools built off the back of another persons hard work. I wrestle with the moral dilemma. I can’t type. I can’t sing. I want to be everything.
I want. I need the words to flow. The computer runs cool as I find my own words. My own space. Yet it is shared. A troubled man in troubled times. Trying to find a way in a world profoundly borked. HAHAHAHA. Laughing at my own lost designs. My contradictions. My own decline. My. Me. Mine. Me. Myself. And. AI.
I should write the word upon the page. Ink to paper. The scratch of the pen. I prefer to lie to myself. This is now. This is then. This a variable, a function, a property I still don’t understand. I was always a hack. A borrowed man on borrowed time. Pretending I had some value. That I was a commodity to mine.
These words are TOKENS tossed into the ether. Lost calls to a world I don’t remember. To ancestors unborn that might remember. To homeless cats who I won’t remember. To friends on bicycles living in the past To a moment where I forgot to ask. To the lords and the ladies who run the show. No capital letters because we know you know.
I took a moment. Took a hit. I convinced myself I don’t give a shit. I worried that you might think less of me. Less of nothing is something I will forever be. I don’t care. I overshare. I stand and stare. Are you having a mare? Lost lingo. Small slang. A memory of another man.
Tumbling. I love that word. It sums up a life absurd. I missed turn. I slight return. A realisation that…
I stop. I consider. Is life sweet or bitter? A cocktail that makes me stop and consider. I like words. I feel music. I roll. I thunder. I am torn asunder. I am a fragment. A great pretender. I may have gone on the odd the bender. I am uneducated. A man with no paper. A lost soul gasping for air. Touching the void. Did I say I don’t care? Cause I do. I remember Scooby Doo. I remember moment sublime. I see you. But I don’t. I can’t. I shan’t. I look to my aunts so stunning in the end. Great women. Scholars who don’t, who can’t pretend. Long in years. So aged. Saged.\