chewing ball wanting connected
crushing blow and falling short

there are times, dear reader, when i sit in front of this box of networks, stumped and feeling cut off from millions of connections and other identities. times when the power of wanting to connect cannot overcome the lack of proximity. this tool i champion daily in my head and sometimes out loud is a fickle bitch, occasionally denying the pleasure it bestows. occasionally turning that pleasure, that greatness of discovery and relation, into a pulverizing ineptitude andf failure. the knowing of sweetness translating into the shock of denial or loss.
when an idea strikes you through incremental channels and the very delay of the discreet users denies the proper development of the idea. or perhaps the need of instantaneousness just becomes too great. is that greed?
running faster than your feet allow. the shortness of media illustrating the folly of assumption.
what a fucking drag. what a fucking defeat.
i am consumed with glut and lust of a pure thing. innocence reverted to bad posture, or something just like it.