Silence of the disconnect. They used to say turn on, tune in. Pierced by the piercing of streets, days strayed, slept in this tune. Tuned in to what? The instant thought that says look, the handheld array. Then comes the boom, a wreck of tons of steel. Cars collide inept. Silence is not quiet. There are two. The one above the boom and the one within the thoughts that deafen. Then there is a silence that makes three.
When you lay upon your roof at night and hear the roar, see the aura of lights, it sounds like a savage celebration just far enough away. You know the two states, yourself on the roof and the maelstrom below. Descend and you will not remember the one you left. Boom, the two are one, the roof disappears. The disconnect makes separate states appear only from afar, separate from the flare. It is Las Vegas, Vanity Fair vs Solitude, Silent Thought. Thoughts are noisy enough as it is. Drown them without noise.
The two states are like the soul come to communion, come with cares, sounds, thoughts, at the best, the highest part of the connect, dreams, plans, intentions, not that the worst are left, they come too but why give place to them, they're the same as hopes and fears. This is the state of the connect.
Only disconnect! Disconnect from sound and dreaming, wondering, staring, surely by now the cell is off, Ipod still. While Beethoven is playing his Opus in A and VanGogh tramping down daisies in a blue field with a yellow sky, disconnect. While the UN is streaming live video, forests are burning, ER's are teeming, what's in front of your eyes? They are closed. The ears cannot hear. You forget yourself.