The Goods 7/10/23
I am reporting in. Not much new here. I’m avoiding all algorithm-based inputs to the best of my ability, so I don’t have much but my mind. It’s not so lively these days by way of cultural critique, and any of my creative energy is used towards something more serious. I don’t even feel like attempting short fiction. I’ll publish my work when it’s the proper length. If I bust my nut too soon, I’ll only be disappointed. The temptation to flood your inbox with my lunatic ramblings for instant gratification is far less tempting. Maybe I’ve found the magic cure. Block all apps and content, including music, for extended periods. The warehouse I work in is around 100 degrees and humid. I enjoy the silence, spare the repetitive hisses and clanks of the industrial machinery. I was in a worse purgatory when constantly seeking stimulation through media because I desperately wanted my conscious mind to forget I was in a hot warehouse for nearly 50 hours a week. The endless stream is purgatory. Seeking is purgatory. Guessing is purgatory.