Travel was not part of my family experience. Tried to make it part of my parenting experience. I’ve had good trips. I’ve had bad trips. I may just trip again.
All just more data
Everytime I reach A conclusion. New data Just keeps streaming in
The word for today is Travel! Where have you been? Where would you like to go? How would you like to get there? Space or time? Photos, Artwork, Poetry, Short Story… Then link to this page. Please tag your post “RDP” and “Ragtag Daily Prompt”. Finally, don’t forget to read all the other wonderful posts. […]
Shoes for Industry! Shoes for the Dead! – Firesign Theatre
Monday morning meaning has gone through many permutations through my days. From hope to dread. Trepidation to turpitude. Triumph to terror. Always a turning point highlighted by a calendar infused post industrial revolution angst about gain and loss, productivity and projections. The get some ethos of our time.
No longer just another day of existence, it was a morning where I stepped back into the world of commerce and played the role I had chosen, or was chosen for me, out of necessity to earn my daily bread by hook or by crook; as was glorified on the entertainment platforms and corporate shill magical moments; to make me want what I had been shown to really really need to be happy.
Yes, and I helped. Daily blur, became weekly blur, folding into yearly blur, cascading down through decades of blur. Just make it through another day so I could make it stop.
The good blur. The productivity blur. The compensated blur. The blurry blur.
Then I got a new role and worked evenings and weekends. Friday afternoon became my Monday morning, with all the same alchemical needs. Only later in the day, and frankly with much less stress. It was just a job and no longer a career. I could cruise on through the five day cattywampus week, with only daily task mapping to keep my steps to a minimum, and as a result, the pain to a minimum.
Now, with those calendar deadline days behind me, and aging into the time of life that medical care could not bankrupt me; I have distilled Mondays down to their essence into this haiku.
Sort
Monday morning sort. What to do? What to read? What to post on my feed?
So I’m sitting at my desk which is nowhere near as nice a desk as the RDP prompt desk picture, and with nowhere as nice a view as the said desk has. Instead I will regale my RDP friends with the stale crusts of my week of #haikufeels prompts instead.
Every four years we add a whole day to our highly inaccurate timekeeping facade so our notion of a comfy ordered perfect universe won’t be shattered. Let’s make it a day to reflect upon the fact that the universe doesn’t behave as we’ve told ourselves it should.
The thing about corridors You want to be sure You are on the right floor Before you knock on one Of the corridor's doors But no matter which one Don't spit on the floors
🎵 Corridor Be on the right floor Please use the cuspidor That's what it's for 🎵
I'll see your tad raise bet you a trifling for the tidbit in the pot without giving a tinker's damn about your attempt to trump threadbare reasoning with thoughtful thorough discourse to work through these timorous tumultuous times
I realize I have to reconcile all the bounced emotional checks that are stacked up in my past like planes making a final approach to O'Hare airport on a holiday
having landed I meander through my conscious concourse to where they have been placed on my baggage to-do list carousel to circulate around procrastinations drain till the last possible moment as overdraft fees take their toll on my psyche
I sometimes plug my haikus into this graphic engine to see just what it makes of my words and to give me insight into the world we are making aided by A. I. output. The results can go from sublime to horrifying. When I plugged this haiku into the engine it produced such disturbing results I chose not to subject the world to this A. I.’s algorithmic nightmares. After four batches of nine results it finally gave me this one, in my opinion, usable option. The first set was produced by entering a more user friendly woo woo trope, but even that put some A. I. darkness on display.
I also sometimes wonder how my words are skewing the data set.
A Scroll Threw Life 