coffee
14 Sep 2023Woo
the brew's aroma flood the bruja's bridge and from the helm i stare at the rings of a gas giant, where i am about to mine some icy asteroids. no space for burnt steak while the morning java reign over the post alternate reconsolidation. a routine, a sacred ritual and a cognitive mantra. when there's no up or down, no left or right, no day or night, we latch onto little things to make sure we put ourselves back together after sleeping out there in the void. routine is what gives so many the ability to stay sane when the challenging existence of humans stray from consciousness to programmed.
contracts for missions, communication, data-logs, systems and procedures, politics and religion, stories and more stories we tell ourselves to justify day after day, or cycle after cycle if you will. meaningless, mindless, emptiness. reason when absent is not the lack, but freedom. it is the convergence of one with nature. and to prevent such, we tell ourselves lies, we make up protocols and more often than not we buy into someone else's. not because we're not capable of coming up with our own, or simply because we're lonely and want to belong. but because we're numb and incapable of accepting our insignificance when humanity insists in praying for dead gods, unspoken heroes, mindless leaders, selfish little brats with a carry on and dreams of gratitude.
