In an attempt to maintain my sanity without going full on Luddite on people this I hope shall become my mumble and murmur in place of what has become an dependence on social media. The lines are blurred and worn thin, as am I, from the constant interaction and maintenance of relationships made more complex by constant interaction and attempts to interpret intimacy through 150 characters or less. It's a farce to think that with the click of a button a person is immediately enshrined within some circle of me regardless of context, content or contact. With the absence of real contact comes confusion, and I am tired of trying to read peoples dreams.
So now I return to my books, I have returned to my writing and have the rough outline of "Zen in the Art of Dishwashing" under construction. Plucking away on a broke neck, cracked nuts 5 string guitar making the dogs howl and wearing the vinyl thin. A more intimate conversation is necessary. and so we proceed. let's begin
"Gates is saying, 'Hey, don't worry about making your soul grow. I'll sell you a program and, instead, let your computer grow year after year after year...'-cheating people out of the experience of becoming."
-Kurt Vonnegut on computers, from "like shaking hands with god"
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