Today's writing

I equivocate as always: email, Instagram, Facebook. Each an echo of the other. So few stories, so many platforms. The stupid sameness of it all, the ringing echo of repetition. Lulling and languorous in a pharmaceutical way, worthy of a thousand wasted hours. By the time I’ve shuffled through selfies and food photos, I’ve nearly forgotten why this laptop is once again warming my thighs. That’s because it’s like that, the dulling and dumbing of oneself, the anesthesia via wifi. No need to leave the house. Just plug in and the IV of technology starts its own drip.