💾 Archived View for midnight.pub › replies › 8954 captured on 2024-08-25 at 05:43:42. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content
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< clustered thoughts, littered thoughts, thoughts of random abandon
Lost me through part of that. Ha
Honestly I have no regrets being away from the news. I left Twitter and reading list news sites in 2019, and I felt like I was escaping an existing dumpster fire my the final strands of rope on a helicopter that was going full tilt upwards.
Then COVID happened, quarantine(s), work/lifestyle changes for everyone (incl me, tho that just meant learning programming/Sysadmin things), and by mid-2020 I had to search for what things were in order to have any idea what was being put on blogs. Some things searched for at the time were - what is Cancel culture?, is the US in a famine?, etc, as I had no idea what these things were though they seemed to be (are?) fairly prevalent on social media (well, not so much famine, but..). I think (theoretically) where I would be (mentally) if I had stayed on Twitter and the news gossip hearsay and shit-talk centers of the Web, and I would have likely needed to be committed to decompress from all the madness there.
Life is better w/o media (nearly all of it). I stay busy and amused with volunteer work, and sometimes slamming words onto Midnight.pub or in IRC, but other than that, it is all Real World, busy-bosy stuff. I am all for it! :)
I can't get it out of my head that everything written is opinion, which is essentially disclosure of momentarily "held" beliefs, both explicit and implied. It's as though there's a huge ball of interconnected notions writhing about, those nearer the surface being there due to greater attention in a moment, the interconnects also defined by belief, balances/mixes of sub-notions also in perpetual morph, but real-ized like the multi-state-ed cat in, relatively speaking, hardened word combinations/orderings.
And, of course, readers tell themselves they're "in touch" with a writer's thoughts/beliefs/opinions, but by then the writer's mind has long ago "writh-o-morph-ed on", as it were, so readers actually possess only a snapshot, a single frame of a long reel of a life unfolding per forces mind can't hammer into words.
Don't hold me to any that, though, of course, because by the time you read it even the wisp of what it once was will have disintegrated into <can't be said>.