As the inventory of minor annoyances, personal inconveniences and the downright global tragedies that are building on us all become clearer, I can't help it: I think about the future and nothing is very positive. It may just be my time of life- people I love are coming to their end, parents, friends are seeing the void, and that leads to introspection from everyone effected. It could be that my work has been slow and I have been alone with my thoughts too much, and I am too willing to see the interconnectedness of insignificant failures. The planet is heating up. Humans are addicted to small screens and behaving like the last act of Wim Wenders' "Until The End Of The World". The light in my kitchen over the microwave flickers. Things break. Miscommunication. My brother's heart tries to kill him. My sons seem withdrawn and alone in the world. It all adds up like a debit column. Nothing much feels comfortable. I have been reading "Fire and Fury" about the shameless head of the American nation and I am disquieted. Even accounting for the tabloid, gossipy nature of the book, if one third of what Wolfe says is true, we are screwed; the worst of our projected ego are "in charge" and the piper will be paid. There is no free lunch. One of the camera guys on a shoot earlier this month had a theory: what if the Mayans were right and the world did end in 2012, and we all just can't give it up and the warped reality that becomes more in focus everyday is the passing dream of a dead world? It's as plausible an idea as any.
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The Womxn's march last Saturday was great and did make me feel better, and maybe the resistance to the orange tiny hand shitstain is the chemotherapy the country needs. Eventually the stupidity may be bred out of the species...if we are still here to pick up the pieces.
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