Jargogled Impressions.

I Write as I Please ~ Orwell. Bingo.

Steps

  1. I start with a clean slate and determine that the reality I have woken up to is the default one. I resolve to attest myself to this wonderful morning thought and upend the miles traveled thus far
  2. 10 minutes into it, I am beginning to lose focus as my feeds start inundating my current world with a firehose of divergent, disparate, dissimilar, disconcerted, defective and disjointed information
  3. I consider pulling down the curtains and reverting to a world I know isn’t real as opposed to opening my eyes in one that I am not sure of
  4. Thinking better, I brace myself up for more of the same even while hoping to get less of everything
  5. All in – that’s what I believe is the right strategy to play in situations like these. But I am dealt not a sure hand, the capital position isn’t so great either. And neither does the weird assimilation of faces conjure anything resembling that pockmarked surface
  6. The more I know, the less I seem to
  7. Turning off the valve and going off-the-grid for a while. Seems to be the best way of dealing with it. The virtual, off-line world seems bereft of the enormity of life around me. Something I can grasp and be comfortable with.
  8. The linkages are beginning to succumb under the mythic overflow
  9. Popping up are the scores of ambiguous realities that are holding mirrors even as they are surfacing near my perceptions
  10. Seemingly disjointed, the worlds do collide every now and then. Thus bringing my state of confusion to the incessant rumble and tumble of continuous fragmentation
  11. Some specks do fly off in an apparent flurry of activities. Instantaneous jolts that threaten to destabilize the inertia
  12. Going nowhere, these monoliths stand tall facing the rising sun every other day. On some select occasions also partaking in the dangerous cycle of make-believe realities that I throw myself as self-appropriating  gestures
  13. Getting lost in the jumble of words is adjudged far superior to losing out in the weeds of these myriad worlds. Thus, the nuances in the wordplay become paramount while the contextual meat fades away
  14. Such cycle doth repeat itself often
  15. And when they do, I know I exist.

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