Observation rarely begins
with remarkable things.
Step Two expands the programme’s vocabulary without explaining its logic. Familiar objects, routine actions and ordinary language are reorganised into procedural statements, each presented with complete confidence. Whether these observations are meaningful is never addressed. Their continued repetition appears sufficient.
Step two the kettle has started auditing your decisions
I stapled my reflection to a receipt from a shop that sells forgotten numbers
The cashier only accepts silence or mild weather warnings
Every time I blink the ceiling files a complaint about my posture in 1997
The algorithm keeps asking if I’ve ever been a Tuesday before
I said yes but only on soft Wednesdays that taste like static
Increase output until the shadows clock in early
Increase output until your thoughts start wearing uniforms for no reason
My motivation is currently stored in a vending machine that only dispenses apologies
If you shake it hard enough it hums your childhood backwards in fourK resolution
I tried to quit productivity but it already signed my handwriting on my behalf
The floor underneath me is taking attendance in alphabetical fog
Somewhere my future is laughing in lowercase italics
Step two
The kettle is still judging your progress report
Increase output like a fridge full of unsent emails
Increase output like teeth learning how to negotiate rent
Step two complete