This is a world of advertisement and commodification. It is not enough to do something; you must also advertise it the best you can. The cameras should constantly be rolling. Sipping coffee is not a complete act in itself; you must also film it, you must film the banalest, the most normal things people do, and you must take obscene ownership of that. No one before you has sipped coffee from that point on. Now, you are the poster child for this activity people have done for more days than the number of beats your heart will ever take. No, you now have ownership of this, and not just this, because you now know that this is what it is all about; you can now take anything, such as running or even writing. It is not essential to write, no. You must make a video of it all, with all the bells and whistles that most writers don’t have or, better, don’t need, such as a candle or two, or writing with a view. Most writers write. Those who don’t write tell others they write. Most life is lived quietly. That is true for most of the world. It is lived by going through the motions, by remembering things.
But this world is not about most people, no. It is the world of a select few, of those who are the loudest with the least to show for it, but the inventory is rarely done. Of course, my qualms with it come from the fact that it is a world I do not fit in. Not anymore. Not with my want for genuine honesty in all of everything. I am honest enough to admit it. I do not believe there is merit in documenting or recording every living, breathing moment. What is living then? Internalising it. Living is a profoundly personal activity, and sometimes, you tell other people things.
Living and recording are not words that share meaning. But language is seldom about meaning, of course. It is always about usage. If living has a different meaning now, however, I pronounce most of us dead. This is the afterlife. Despite the good we did, we somehow ended up in hell.