I keep meaning to publish publicly.
I keep meaning to do a lot of things.
That will be over soon.
The message was missed.
Transmission not obtained.
I feel like I'm out of things to say.
Everything I say is a repeat.
I'm repeating myself.
This is Jackie Lane in Syndication.
I have 3 unpublished pieces saved.
What good does it do to publish the story out of sequence.
Always publish.
The moment is fleeting.
Everything is temporary.
This is our independence day.
Is our cage any different?
If it's invisible, are we better?
Is it better when you can see your chains link?
Ideas may be bullet proof.
I am not bullet proof.
Corporations are bullet proof.
The right idea will change everything.
I am the tin man.
I have begun to rust.
Just a little more oil.
I'll be fine.
Grease the wheel.
With an avocado.
From my farm in California.
Where all the flowers bloom.
And the earthquakes boom.
And the fire turns us into a pheonix.
This might be the remix.
Insert your Jackie Lane 2.0
Hard but floppy disk into the drive.
Enter the world wide web.
Where all the ideas go.
And the rainy mist of our tears
Will make them grow.
The monitor makes us glow.
The box we used to monitor things on.
Now monitors us instead.
We have gone from being the student.
To being the studied.
We have gone from being the interpreters.
To being the data.
And one day it's all going to shatter.
