Short read. Short leash. No interruptions. No setbacks. No noodling. No fat. No excess. Low fat, low carb, low intensity, low stakes, low tolerance, low alcohol, low down payment, low risk investment. Leave nothing to chance, have AI fill the margins. Boredom replaced with scrolling, if you’re not consuming you’re decomposing. No spaces in between. It’s all about the grind, ice baths at 4am, live streamed so every moment can be monetized, if you’re not making money you’re losing money. Every moment is for survival – surviving for what? For tomorrow? For the same thing, over and over again? The shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
I’ve found it increasingly hard to be bored. I’m sure that’s always been the case – before the proliferation of cell phones you see pictures of cities coated in newspapers and magazines, the common struggle all folks face no matter their class, race, creed, gender, orientation, whatever, is how do you pass the time? What do you do with the time that has no meaning, no end objective? What’s the difference between the time we spend that we consider meaningful and not? There’s always too much and too little time. A contradiction of living.
I think everybody needs some sort of external framing of what life’s all about. Religion, politics, work, play, relationships, there has to be something with meaning outside of us? Something that makes the past more than passed, tomorrow more than just another day. It’s hard just to be as you are, you have to be as something. We treat this like it’s some sickness of the modern age, but maybe it’s been forever? How many names are based on occupations? Here’s John, the smith. John Smith, if you will.
Still, I think in this STEM-focused, efficient for the sake of efficiency society, it’s gotten worse. Hell, autocorrect is yelling at me right now because “efficient for the sake of efficiency society” isn’t efficient enough. Concisity, brevity, is key. We have AI to condense hundreds of pages into hundreds of words, why say many words when few words do trick? But why? What are we saving all this time for? Are we living more in the time we’ve saved or the time we’ve now devoted to the hustle, the grind, the side-project?
All of this, I think, has led to it being increasingly hard just to be nowadays. If everything can be simulated, replaced, 3D-printed, quantized in forecasts, if we can outsource all of our hardships, risks, decisions, to synthetic solutions, make life a sensory deprivation chamber, what the hell’s the point? Not to advertise vices, but I get worried at how sober, sexless, and sanitary things are getting. We act like the only point of life is to lengthen it. When I’m 70 I want sunspots, wrinkles, signs of mileage and wear, save preserving me in formaldehyde for when I’m dead. Even then, don’t worry about that.
I sometimes wonder if after we got rid of all hardships, we’ve had to replace them with self-imposed ones just to keep life interesting. I’m self aware – somewhat – I have what I need to survive at my fingertips, so I go out to experience the lack of that. I don’t have a particularly physically demanding job, so I go to the gym or go outside to do something physically demanding. The more we’ve tried to shield ourselves from pain, the more we have to bring it back in self-imposed, artificial forms to deal with the prison of excess. First world, privileged problems, 100%, but problems nonetheless. How many interesting stories are there that have zero struggle, or at least intrigue? “Sally and I went to the park and then came home. The end!”
I’m not super sure what my point is here, so let’s say that’s the point. Some food for thought this Sunday, a bit of stream of consciousness to say “huh, interesting” to and then go about your day. It’s how it goes. And it’s going. Go do something, make life interesting, add some curves to your road. Shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but it’s rarely worth it. What are you saving time for? I could stand to be bolder, be less paralyzed by risk analysis, and just do the damn thing, say the damn thing, put myself out there. My guess is, so could you. Hot girls hit the curb.
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