To the point the ideas hit to never actualize. This moment I'll dictate them into the device in my hand. On the train everyone's immersed in their device. To be fair I am currently and constantly. Now though, I wonder if there's some truth to this cliche of epidemic, lost deeply in our screens. A young man scrolls to find such isolated humor. I recognized myself in that and dwell on the same isolation, of something in myself looking back in infinite consumption in cyclic yearning, wonder, practicality, mismanagement, or nine-yards (and whatever that means) laid out front with nothing but ascension gained at once from some working-something-middle-class. I watch traversing this system of transit that is so efficient. Like something out of a dream, we download an app to align so efficiently, lingering for a while watching masses pass, timid in brief glances. It’s as if everyone is keeping fast to their mission, and we simply smile back into a thrall. To know know they’re on a level of significance and that we can strive to become a part of this mess.
I’m going to allow myself to engage in this stream of consciousness from now on, whittle it down to something. Especially because text backs up deep with little overhead. Not like that heavy device of consecutive frames, every single encounter in near material existence. It's something that takes space. A labeled identity, some throbbing notion of self. It is inherently productive. Even social. Space can manifest in differing ways and in my case it’s not something completely alone, quiet and by itself, but actually in the middle of everything and everyone. You might find solace just as easily in a quiet dark room as you can in the midst of many strangers in a brightly-lit metro corridor.