Words for 1 Nov 2026

Image by Antonio Cansino from Pixabay

Coffee number three and nothings coming to me. I'm trying to write, trying to fight the fight. The topics don't tickle my brain, what an arduous boring pain. I should be in Spain, wandering la rambla with a massive hangova', trying to find drip coffee in the land of espresso, jamon and paella. 

Shit, I forgot how to spell paella and the existence of the double-L's. That's okay, I've only found it mediocre the times I've had it. Still, what a pain to have nothing to write about that speaks to me. This is my stupid blog, my stupid journal I put out there for everyone to see. Why do I do that? I don't know. Perhaps for some kind of validation or staying with the social media flow. It's nice to have some format other than the explosion of people's faces doing cliche things, complaining about places, faces and even races. 

What will happen when everything's been done? AI accelerated Idiocracy? Dark ages of technology? Or maybe we just turn it all off for a time? Realize all we have is just fine. Get back to the local things, community, family and friends. Drink a little, smoke a little and frolic some more. 

The trouble is it feels like the powers, that be, have warheads, drones and lunatics with guns all pointed at we. Leveraging "our" "freedom of speech" to keep peace and kindness out of reach. Any why? Probably because the anxious buy, buy, bye. The last one is for when your money's gone and they cover your "grave with manure".

But is the story any different than it used to be? Invisible hands picking pockets to build rockets and things that go boom, eventually turning them back on me and you. 100 years ago it was the airplane and before that, the steam train, preceded by big ships with sails and ox carts and things with wheels. And was it any better, when the "divinely chosen" lived in castles on hills? Keep the people smart enough to do your bidding but not smart enough to realize they're not winning. Leave us divided for the picking, keep us quarreling over semantics of things. Tugging at our primate brain, convincing us we won't survive without having what we see. Still, so many buy and continue in their misery. 

In reality we don't need much, some food and maybe a roof for when the weather's rough. Sure, it's nice to have a fire and perhaps some friends to play a game of Risk or help change a tire.

That's 420 (420, hehe) words that I didn't know where they'd lead. Apparently, I'm just another jaded 50-year-old, so cliche, indeed. So, it's time to digress and get back to Spain, helping my drunk friend home from a night on la rambla and avoiding the tourist version of paella (there I can spell it again). Maybe hit the beach and see a cathedral or two, rinse and repeat. 

Addendum (20 minutes later). The fact that this is what I chose to write about has me wondering that the programming is working. This is where the concern and anxiety lie. It would be nice to write freely, without a care in the world, but what boring drivel that would be...sigh

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