ode to boring

ode to boring

i've lost interest in "interesting." embracing the "boring" holds greater appeal. it's disheartening how much of what's deemed interesting merely hints at instability. people find it interesting when thoughts flow freely, yet isn't that indicative of an avoidance of reflection, suggesting a lean away from planning or pattern recognition? it seems capitalism won't face a particular challenge from a populace with such a disposition.

this, therefore, is the precise type of writing i don't want to do. i'm not immune to the allure of being interesting. it's a habit like any other. perhaps i should define "boring" if that's my goal. to me, boring signifies reality and mundanity.

so what's real right now? i'm awake. i had breakfast. i've been cooking more lately. i'd missed cooking. it's fall—either today or tomorrow? i've forgotten, and i won't bother to look it up. and boring? i'm full; i'm thirsty. the notion of thirst hadn't crossed my mind until i wrote it down just now. i'm going to go get some gatorade zero and conclude here. i hope today is boring. i hope tomorrow is too.