Digitopia (A Drabble)

We trade conversation as commodity. The endless bartering of words. Stealthily concealing meaning within grammatically moribund tropes.

The LOL never touches our eyes let alone our lips.

A million words to furnish a life with a cast of thousands. The possibilities are endless.

The possibilities are ending.

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Four Facts For A Friday

I may be an old dog of questionable new-trick capacity but my ability to soak up random stuff like a sponge remains unparched (and it’s not just limited to red wine).

Here are four things I’ve learned this week.

1. I have my very own fishy counterpart.

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Fragments Of Elastic

I choose to ignore the inhuman screams from the bathroom and continue on to the bedroom.

“I’ve found it love.”

“Found what?” My wife answers with seasoned patience aware, no doubt, that a period of communication consisting entirely of swear words and conspiracy theories is about to begin.

Again.

“The fucking invisible cord attached to my leg. The one that starts pulling the moment I walk away from them and jerks out of their back as soon as I get somewhere close to where I need to be so they can yell DAAAAAAAAAAD or wail like fucking banshees. Basically our children are operated by an invisible mechanism not unlike the one used to get Woody to talk in Toy Story but without the humour or charm.”

“Keep your voice down.”

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In A Long Line Of Cars

I spy with my little eye something beginning with…

How’s that going to work? You’re stuck in traffic all alone, dimwit. You need at least one additional person for a satisfactory game of I-Spy. Preferably someone older than two unless you want another round of I spy with my little eye something beginning with…tree. At least five year olds make it interesting by spying things you can’t actually see.

“…beginning with…C!”

“Cricket bat?”

“No.”

“Cricket ball?”

“No.”

“Cricket stadium.”

“No.”

“Chlorine.”

“No dad! You can’t see chlorine when we’re swimming.”

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Bertie

Einstein claimed that energy can neither be created nor destroyed.

I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes half-heartedly swiping at a fly who keeps landing on my monitor. This is not your typical full-of-energy fly. This poor sod can’t even summon up the will to buzz. He paddles around in ever decreasing circles, I paw at him with ever decreasing energy until at last he settles on the wall and I settle back into my chair.

I wonder if the two of us have created some kind of lethargy-vortex. There is matter and antimatter. Perhaps there is energy and anti-energy? I would ask her about Uncle Energy but she has a wan and distant look these days so I will play along with the lie that he never existed.

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