For Ginsberg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tiny robot that stole my personality

I would not want to waste all my lines into the crag of msn conversations. There is something about the medium of messaging that eliminates any possibility to be memorable. Details, fine. But what of the witticisms that become incompatible with one’s memory? Those spontaneous audible-laugh-inducing quips? Wasted! Away they slide-o down the sloppy mush-leaf clogged eaves trough of intangible communication. Yet another sigh escapes these tired lungs. What a sacrifice to make for minutes revelling in the sweet indulgence of convenience-tainment. This is very dangerous. The bonds made in person with laughter cannot be digitally replicated, a fact we all must know and ignore by now. The time spent squinting and pushing tiny buttons is time away from looking through air at faces and listening to voices talk about crudely unimportant issues.
In short the more one sacrifices time experiencing people, the fewer redeemable points are accumulated towards the ultimate prize of joie de vivre.
It is important to realize how expensive diddly-gizmos are.