“Middle Window”
313 Apt. 7
I am a lucky person. My life is ascetic. Minimalism drives me (toward nothingness).
I am alone in a studio. I have a balcony. I do not have a cat.
I choose to leave my home each morning, because no possessions are there to call my name.
I feel like a lonely house cat.
They say when artificial intelligence takes over we will all be like their house cats.
A billionaire said that. He probably has too much stuff.
I will be safe and without extra belongings.
I will roam feral of our AI overlords; no stuff to keep me from running away.
I sit in the dim light of my home, alone, expecting that my strange aversions will save me one day. Neither cats nor robots seem to care about stuff.
Materialism will become obsolete, with me, here, already ahead of the future.
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