Click. Scan. Scroll. Click.
In your hand. In your pocket. In the pocket of Big Data.
Scan. Click. Scroll. Click.
Ad-block cock-block block party.
Next. Next. Next.
Missing. What am I? Missing. What am I? What am I missing?
Next. Click. Blink. Drink.
Internal Internet net negative positive neutrality reality.
Reading. Halt! R-e-a-d. Knowledge interruptus.
Takes so hot you’ll burn your fingertips. Click.
Phone ain’t smart,
Fuck those charts,
A life apart.
We are breeding a generation of phobics.
“We’ve always been afraid,” he replied.
We are texting ourselves into oblivion.
“We’ve always wanted distance,” she added.
We are sexting ourselves into oblivion.
“We’ve always wanted to look,” he rationalized.
“It takes time,” she said.
“And patience,” he added.
“And love,” someone echoed.
“What does?” they said in unison.
Click. Scroll. Scan. Click. Next.
Bewildered, are you?
Embracing this racing.
Facing the ethereal void.
Echoing and then flickering connections.
Grammar graham crackers.
The Twitter-verse screamed, “Hip, Hip, Hip—aww-crissss-eee!”
The company tweeted, “We’re so sorry.”
The Twitter-verse thundered, “Down with power!”
The powers that be said, “You’re so right. We will hire new marketers.”
The data collectors generated reams of information that was never to be seen.
You don’t have to type to click.
You don’t have to read to click.
You don’t have to think to click.
Click. Click. Next. Scan.
You don’t have to.
You don’t have.
There is space and there is time, but there is very little continuum.
If none of this makes sense, you may be getting the idea.
—Follow Jonah Hall on Twitter: @darkoindex