One juicy big apple, some half assed yoga, folk music, half old, half new coffee, free music downloads, lukewarm almond milk and unfrosted flakes knock off, the toes are cold on the carpet and often hearing the jaws of the trash receptacles open and close, eating trash or compost or recyclable with vicious finality. Where does it even end up? Never mind that now. Move forward. Away the entanglement of poorly designed systems of cities that gradually have injured the environment of natural evolution the human species has clearly upset. Knowledge of these things is dangerous because it makes social interactions seem so futile in comparison, the books to write and music to record, all of that intimate personal experience of life seems so much more relevant, but then the only happiness is shared, said some lonely old pilgrim, and the lower back feels a little pressure, the plane flying over head drops no payload, no army trucks on parachutes for me, unfortunate, no fire bombings or pieces of the plane itself, that sky network of so many layers of airplanes, huge and full of paying business people, interconnectedness of the world because we share the same terribly small trivialities or desires to escape from the chaos of a crowded sky with headphones in and eyes averted, steps tread carefully. Every day is a social experiment. Every waking observation is a participant observation, even trivia night for which I could have directed my thoughts clearly and concisely on a singular topic. In retrospect, go out to trivia night with intent to write about trivia knight, a short story. Something gorgeous with words and heartless characters whom no one root for to win as they look up the answers on their phones and win unfairly. They posture and stretch as I had once when I thought I cared. Now I write and glower.
It became too scientific. That old stream of consciousness is now sent through a treatment facility, coughing out as poetry-removed grey water.
