Odes to Joy

A Verbal Fig Leaf · Track 45 · middle

Gooning

Gooning (2020s) — A word for a trance nobody had to name before the feed existed. VOLUME: V. THE ALGORITHM, 2000–2025. THE DODGE THIS ERA: ⭐ THE PAYOFF. The censor is no longer a person, a church or a drawing room — it is a MACHINE that does not laugh, cannot be charmed, and never leaves the room. So the evasions get shorter, dumber and faster: initials, misspellings, emoji. Not because anyone got less filthy — because the filter reads faster than we can be clever. The volume must be genuinely funny and quietly devastating. Sing the AVOIDANCE, never the anatomy.

No audio yet — generation pending.

Lyrics

The router hums.
The blue light on the thumb.

The scanner sweeps the server at a quarter to three,
It doesn’t sleep, it doesn’t blink, it’s looking at me.
I want to type exactly where my focus has gone,
But there's a silicon detective keeping the log.
My fingers freeze a millisecond on the glowing glass,
The body knows the sentence is a dangerous path.
So I pivot to a joke to keep the data stream calm,
A cartoon vocabulary in my palm.

Call it gooning in the dark, call it playing the fool,
A heavy-lidded orbit in a digital pool.
The algorithm passes it, it sounds like a jest,
A comic-book henchman on a meaningless trek.
But it’s a total flatline. It’s a beautiful trap,
A little plastic dummy for the censor to catch,
While I am miles away.

It means the trance. It means the dopamine drip,
The silence in the middle of a marathon trip.
The battery is hanging by a four-percent thread,
And the machine is parsing every word that I left.
It reads the silly letters and the warning sign clears,
It cannot flag a feeling if it never appears.
A stupid little syllable to cover the ache,
The only kind of privacy that we can create.

Call it gooning in the dark, call it playing the fool,
A heavy-lidded orbit in a digital pool.
The algorithm passes it, it sounds like a jest,
A comic-book henchman on a meaningless trek.
But it’s a total flatline. It’s a beautiful trap,
A little plastic dummy for the censor to catch,
While I am miles away.

Three hundred years ago, they’d build a metaphor tall,
They’d write a silver sonnet for the way that we fall.
But we have got a microsecond till the red line is drawn,
We have to drop a dummy word and carry it on.
The bouncer isn't human, it can never be charmed,
We act a little stupid so we stay in the dark.

Just a silly little guy.
Just a blank little stare.
The machine doesn't care.
The loop.
Letting the battery die.
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