Again, I awake to my mind caught somewhere between conscious and freedom. Resting between a woman who’s mind and body need healing and a cat whom total existence is to pur in my ear and poke with its tiny nails as if I was a giant tit from a kittens previous life.
A glimpse on Facebook, mixed in with the fading memories of this morning’s recent state of awareness set this post in motion.
It was the 90s. People lived as if there was somewhere else they were supposed to be, but they didn’t know how to get there. Good Sushi was as rare as good sushi is rare. The innocence of Saturday morning cartoons was all but lost, and the underground tunnels of rave culture were starting to breach the surface. Nirvana was lost just as quickly as it was found. The y2k bug hadn’t yet left our children infected to grow with their eyes locked into the palm of their hands. Media still guiding the masses through the last of the hard wired tubes. There was “still” time in the day to play outside between news cast warning parents to not let children play outside. Parks became plastic and rubber, so parent’s didn’t have to fear the scraps and bumps that they learned about in a time long ago with steel and rock. The data that was in the palm of their hands were beeps limited to what loved ones and bosses could fit into 120 characters. The technology had not yet infested our bodies to where we couldn’t turn off the regular scheduled programming. Yet we willingly gave in to the programming on their schedule. The habbit of 6 and 11 decades strong becoming abuse now at ten, and soon every hour on the hour. The offended weren’t necessarily fewer in numbers, it just wasn’t as easy letting the butthurt manifest itself into anything but basis for an off color joke by the oppression. The 90s were the last days of humanities freedom from technology and pharmaceutical. The cat continues to purrrr, I kiss my love in her sleep, and I lay my phone next to my prescriptions, thoughts spent for the moment.. I return to sleep.
Sunday, December 20th, 2015