plastic pleasures
september 28, 20234 something in the afternoonon on a wednesday
life in 2023 is composed of plastic protected emotions, many of which expire on the shelves and gather in trashcans. if landfills could scream, i imagine the sound would burst our eardrums. there is so much noise already, all the time. the hum of rattling atoms, screaming in their cages of time and space. what holds them together? those poor plastic packages, stuck in their form longer than we will be in ours. to live in 2023 is to be quick and efficient, to measure every activity down to the second. 40 seconds of this exercise, 180 seconds to brush your teeth, 30 seconds in the microwave and exactly 25 seconds for the coffee. there is no time for craftsmanship. we all work so fervently just to reward ourselves with plastic pleasures. often i put all my effort into my jobs and then i come home and feel exhausted from running in circles of fake work. i did nothing at all. what am i doing, pouring energy into such temporary products? spices used to come in metal cans and cost a week of work. i see videos of people making things the traditional way, like mochi dough and soy sauce and tables. i can’t help but think it would be more fulfilling to live this way, to work on one thing all day, truly crafting it with concentrated effort and then enjoy it slow once it’s complete. the ease of quick plastic products steals any potential fulfillment of their consumption. everything around me feels so cheap and tacky and worthless, like it’s not even real. i’m tired of rushing and waking up with a racing heart and sleeping with a running mind. i’m tired of the instant process of everything we consume. i don’t want another after this one. someday i’ll write something beautiful again that kisses you on the cheek and loosens your grip on your mind. but i haven’t felt beautiful in a while, and it’s hard to see beauty in the fake. sometimes all the noise sounds like the scream of the landfill, sometimes my body is the cage of everyone’s collective emotions, past present future. rattling in my atoms and threatening to rip my form open at the seams. maybe that is my duty this time, to carry the suffering of others. i hope that they feel lighter when i hold it for them like this. my unfoldment, this lifelong release of discoveries is constantly interrupted by snapchats and plastic cups and staticky dresses. it’s hard to see the magic in each movement, to feel the rush of a kiss on my neck, to notice the leaves turn color. days attack with such urgency and i’m not the best peacekeeper yet. every decision i make plays itself out on a battlefield. soldiers of thought build the army of each choice and they go to war in my mind every time. wars over which plastic i’ll consume today, wars of rest vs work. a million little thoughts, sparring, running, dying. i don’t know what they want exactly, why do they fight? i don’t think my thought soldiers know either, they just vow to protect their leader and do their best to stay alive. i can’t save them all, nor do i necessarily want to. how does one write a peace treaty? i’ve got prisoners of war screaming at me to save them from the torment of their opposing victor when i make a choice. they get locked up in the cages of the very thing they tried to defeat. could you imagine the pile of all you’ve ever created and consumed sitting in front of you? could you bear the scream of your landfill? do you still want another?