What of it when the children quit speaking and no speech pathologist can intervene? I would Maya Angelou too if my mother had an Easter island face staring into a black screen instead of my eyes. Children used to be part of life. Touching their hands to adult faces as they undulated words and movements of life. Full body experience it was. Brains kept nimble for young and old.
I met a child who had never seen an orange peeled. He held the slice like a grub, writhing away, two fingers. He could reach for the phone - not for a call- and open the app, one finger. I bet he will never read. Only seeing a.i. pictures, generated lines which seem human enough to just be unknown. Who am I kidding? I write this on a small box and speak it to none. I bought a tomato where they genetically modified the flavor out. Only red left. And faint in the middle. They are picked green. Ripened by mechanical temperature trucks and chemical. At least it's "fresh." Imagine the ketchup.
What if the only people you saw were only the real people you actually saw. I saw my husband. I saw a guy walking his dog. I saw some coworkers. I saw a car accident. I drove on by. See the self-esteem restore. This is where humanity is at. Not a profile picture but faces in action, bodies in action. More than the 2D avatar Instagram keeps insisting I make. No edits. What if all the words you heard were just the ones spoken to you in person? What would you know then? Before Google, you would have a question. Ponder on it a bit and try to figure it out. If this failed, You walked to and talked to another person. If they did not know, you shared sweet vulnerability in both not knowing. No true answer. No accuracy. Just connecting our squid tentacles. This was before our antenna. We could laugh and connect on mutual imperfections.
I'm sick of talking about politicians I've never met and pretending like they know anything about me (or you or him or them). This isn't how things get done. Imagine how much Xanax is prescribed in a world where you only know of the trauma that affects you and your friends. Imagine how much Xanax is not prescribed in a world where you only know what you experience and share with others. I would never know of an earthquake. How many Americans would know of a lion?
People used to meet in Venn Diagrams: geography, temperament, and timing. So much more simple than an algorithm. Met on the apps. What a joke. This math said it will work, not we will make it work. Remember how husbands and wives used to talk? There's an app for that. You can two-factor authenticate a tickle or a kiss. We used to mend socks and marriages used to work.
My husband says I'm an old soul. I am and so is he. We make it work. I want to curl up in my sensual world. Not 'Porn Hub' sensual where you can watch a girl captcha a man or another woman or a wand or a mechanical noose or a latex glove or an a.i. cartoon. Gamify sex. Double points and double penetration. I'm talking about 'Senses' sensual. The real taste, real sight, real feelings, real sounds of the world. That which I know.
I love a letter. Something you hold. Like how children used to hold faces, I hold letters. Physical. The artifact true. Undulating with my soul.
God the future is so bleak without you. Please speak words and touch and smell and hear. Please talk to every cashier! Please nod hello and acknowledge every person you see. Smile. It's still feminist to smile. Be happy and let others know you're happy. Attract the real and happy. We are overlapping circles. I am here too.
Next time you reach for the box and you face slacks in the boredom of another low-senses event, Write me a letter instead. Feel the pen. Smell the paper. Read the words. Say the words. Hear them. Taste the ink. I said: TASTE THE INK! The vibration of your body moving and experiencing. So much more effort than a "like." It's titillating. Addictive. To be in movement true. Not a thumb-poked button. Not 2020 when Facebook added the "Care" reaction, a yellow circle holding heart with...hands? gloves? No difference of a friend and a stranger.
Slide out my DMs and into my hands.
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