morning head: Post-Life

As if a to-do-list wasn’t enough of a reminder that you’re failing as a post-social human being, the list never shrinking, unable to keep up with the prioritising of All The Things over moments of quiet, of contemplation, of taking a moment to work out where, and who, the fuck you are in the world anymore, which by the way isn’t why the list doesn’t shrink; the moments of quiet are moments of silence, raging, blank silence, vague and inarticulate. No, to hammer the point home, there’s a sub-to-do-list, yet another bunch of stuff you should be doing, which is actually stuff you shouldn’t be doing, or rather, doing instead of other stuff: Turning off screens an hour before bed, not standing in a brightly-lit bathroom while you clean you’re teeth, laying off the fucking sugar so you don’t wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a train… it goes on. The ends of days anymore are become mindless, a cycle of washing dishes, picking up toys and scrolling through MyTwatFace feeds unseeing, glossing over the endless babbling shite that we all put out into the future. Perhaps if the post-human augmentation/upload phenomena, the manifestation of our nihilistic desire to survive the impending cultural extinction, ever really takes off enough “people” will be uploaded to spend the rest of the Elon Musk Post-Life EternityTM sifting through the collective Instagramtic inanities of the early twenty first century searching for some meaning, while outside the wires the Post-Yellowstone-Eruption nuclear winter rages through the winds farms, powering our Tesla home batteries that keep us all in a comfortable state of post-life.