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A Tribute to Defectiveness


I'm networking so much lately that my emotional brain is growing
disproportionately, taking over the spoken language neurotic (sic) areas.

I went to the kitchen today, where my housemate P. was making a peanut butter/cucumber sandwich.
'Food!', I uttered.
Then immediately 'Foooood!' again, like I had awaken, at last, to the fact that I also needed to chew on something.
So I walked to the fridge and saw this crate of beer from the night before, lying on top of another crate, by the cooling machine.

'BEEEEER!' I said, with unveiled enthousiasm.
Then P. was laughing so nicely that I could not help commenting on how life could be much easier if we weren't to use so many words all the time.

Point being: it's not me doin'it wrong when losing the ability to speak, in favour of striking keys and reading lines. Or emit monosyllables and laugh.

I feel good when I speak less.
It's not just a day after the party.

More words spoken does not necessarily mean more understanding.
Interactivity does, perhaps.
Communication on many different levels.

We experience it when the space is limited, like on a forum post.
Or when dictionary is limited, like speaking a foreign language.

When functioning neurons are few.
After a party.

It's no so bad, is it? When we break the rules of grammar, when we play with letters or sounds or signs and still dig it.

The world is not given anymore, we must make an effort to find new meanings. Significance not granted, it's finally distorted so we give up all convinctions that we know it all, already.

Few elements are there, an invitation to ask. To interact.

We loose the grasp. And caress freedom.

Most likely we wouldn't have had so many wars in history if internet trolling had been invented before semantics. It could be.

So fallacious, so charmant.

That was the point.

Flaminia Klla


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