The tank is empty.
Need to get laid?
We spend our life looking into screens, our bodies less necessary than ever before, ironic given that we’ve never been better able to maintain and optimize and keep alive these bodies.
I suspect it’s the news of the day. The lies, the fears, the protests, the change. More of all of it than ever before, it seems.
I try to read tech sites, but they’ve gone off the deep end, stricken with Trump Derangement Syndrome, unable to separate fact from fiction, deathly afraid their worldview must adapt.
Apple sites have become fake news. Troll headlines, deceptive content, cheering one side, jeering another, never offering the reader the full truth, unable to, it seems, as the full truth would kill their business model.
I have 100+ television channels, plus Netflix, plus Amazon, plus a bursting at the seams DVR. I turn on the television just for background noise.
How is passion regenerated? Does it run on focus? Is focus the fuel? But the world won’t allow us to focus, so does that kill passion?
Ecclesiastes, chapter 2, states: “there is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil.”
Is writing toil?
It causes pain. It pays the bills. On a good day, at least.
Maybe we know too much, see too much, hear too much, read too much, feel too much. Our most human of traits on digital accelerant, separating us, blowing us off course.
1 Timothy, chapter 6: “now there is great gain in godliness with contentment.”
But we no longer exist in a world which supports contentment. The opposite, in truth.
1 Timothy also warned of us “idlers, going about from house to house, and not only idlers, but also gossips and busybodies, saying what they should not,” but that was written before texting, sexting, Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, and Twitter.
Think it, it gets out. Tweet, share, like, swipe, click, tap, troll, scroll. It’s only idleness in the aggregate, maybe.
Idea for a story. He’s a young federal court justice, a strict constructionist, in the model of the late Justice Scalia. He’s very conservative, very Catholic. He gets a call from the President. He’s to be nominated to fill the vacant seat on the Supreme Court.
What nobody else knows, he’s also a demon killer. SCOTUS by day, killer of demons and demigods by night.
It’s one of dozens of story ideas I’ve jotted down.
The story I’m working on, mostly, is glorious. Truly. I didn’t work on it today. Busy. 30 web browser tabs open, Twitter feed, Slack. It’s not fear of missing out. It’s can’t tune out.
Tune in, turn on, drop out, then. Now, log off, shut down, reboot.
And with time enough to question everything?
This may be a temporary blockage. We are inundated with too much, like 20th century telephone wires criss-crossing the landscape. Soon, perhaps, we can think it, say it, feel it, and expunge all of it, sending it off to Giant Brain, able to recall it and re-use it only as we need.
“Giant Brain, remind me in 8 days to get a gift for my boss, spend no more than $35, and then remind me no more than 4 hours before the birthday party.”
Then get it out of our thoughts. Clear out some room.
The opposite of now, with everything picing atop us all of the time.
Everything has changed, but not our lives. We are not quite ready to think different, work different, live different, learn different, even as the old ways are collapsing on themselves and the new ways suggest near-infinite paths.
Too much white noise, too many tech toys, too often postponed joys, unable to heed our calling, to give it our time, our focus, our love, our devotion, its due.
Maybe it’s not us? Maybe our calling just isn’t loud enough.
Leaving has become so easy.