xyzzy

I think I’m brushing up against the singularity. I’ve been more or less hard-wired into the internet since I was 12 and I presently have 40(!) tabs open in my browser, so I guess it was bound to happen eventually.

This morning I visited the original Prancercise video again for some unfathomable reason, only to have my coworker link me to this takedown of the new “Romancercise” John Mayer music video not five minutes later.

Today also saw a bunch of reports of Paula Deen allegedly being a racist jerkass, which made me feel more than a bit weird about inexplicably zoning out on a bunch of her more ridiculous videos last weekend.

Confirmation bias tells me I’m mentally tapping into the zeitgeist. Soon I will be able to predict the near future, but in this modern Cassandra myth, I’ll only be able to convey the truth in memes.

I’ve already been mentally drafting my last several days as a post in the style of interactive fiction, which is kind of an ongoing fixation of mine because I never really got over Choose Your Own Adventure books. How I imagined it would begin:

You wake up. It is still dark outside. You don’t dare check the clock for fear of spending the rest of your precious sleep time thinking about how little of it you have left.

>>sleep

You manage to fall asleep again, only to wake up an hour or so later. It’s still dark. Also, why does your bladder think you’re pregnant?

>>sleep

You do, but you wake up again. Your cat sighs and rolls over in her sleep.

>>sleep

Haha, no, fuck you.

There’s a good reason I didn’t see the whole thing out. No one wants to read Kafka’s LiveJournal.

(I should probably get around to trying to write real IF. I should be able to figure out how to use Twine, if nothing else.)

—–

I realize this entry is incoherent. If anyone hopes for better, tell my brain to figure out how melatonin and serotonin work. (Good luck with that!) Alternately, blame it on the interwebs destroying my attention span.

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