I’m starting to journal again, obviously. The purpose was, ostensibly, to try to make sense of my own world, in a way that would somehow remove me from the immediacy of the goddamn endless swamp that my life seems like sometimes, post Death Race to the Emergency Room 2016.
Then, the world started to lose its fucking mind.
Well, to be more specific – my country lost its mind, and started to shit itself all over the rest of the world.
I remember a time… is starting to be a phrase you see a lot on Twitter. Maybe on Facebook, too, but FUCK that place. After the damage they helped to do to the election – again, FUCK that place. And word is that Zuckerberg has his sights set on 2020. You know what? Fuck HIM too.
Ok. Got that out of my system.
But I do remember a time – when Bush winning the election felt like an incomprehensible insult. When having him in office and telling us to go SHOPPING as a solution to 9/11 was –
Ok, I’m about to devolve into a Lewis-Black-esque spew of FUUUUUUUUCK again.
Where we are here? Now?
Years and years ago, pre-internet, I used to carry paper journals around all the time. Never without a book to read, and never without some place to record my thoughts or collect quotes or what have you. And there was some ok writing that came out of that, but in the main, page after page of those journals ended up devolving into a downward slant – “swirling” is what my friend Mannie called it – that tendency to focus on something negative and just follow it doggedly down and endless rabbit hole of FUUUUUUUUCK…
Yeah, I like that word a lot.
But the thing with those journals was, part of why they did that - dig themselves into depths of FUCK THIS SHIT - was the self-knowledge that no one would ever read them. Outside that one time when my ex – but that was a whole other thing…
It’s more likely than not that no one will read all this stuff either. Just because it’s on the internet doesn’t mean it’s actually ‘out there’ in the sense that I’ll have an audience.
But there’s that possibility.
And it’s what helps keep me, in a weird way, accountable.
There’s the slim-to-none but still possible possibility that someone out there – might stumble across this.
And because of that, I feel like I have to be interesting.
I have to try to make sense out of all this.
I have to have something to say, besides just endlessly howling into the void.
Because someone out there just might – maybe – hear.
That's all I was able to do yesterday. Last night
This last week.
The last ten days.
Howl. Shriek. Cry.
The world I live in right now – my country – has stopped being accountable. Even though it has the ear of the entire fucking world – my country has gone totally tone deaf. Our sense of responsibility for and to others has disappeared faster than an old-school vampire in direct sunlight.
Yes, I know, this has been years in the making.
But ten days –
TEN FUCKING DAYS, people –
In ten days –
I can’t right now. I just can’t even go into it. It’s both simple and complex, and overall overwhelming.
Whoever runs across this little time capsule in the electronic ocean - if someone ever does - if the USA and by extension large chunks of the world aren’t just smoking rubble and an EMP hasn’t wiped out colossal swaths of the Earth's collective knowledge – the Library of Alexandria writ large –
Look it up.
U.S. History, Friday, January 20 to Saturday, January 29, 2017.
Then again, depending on what happens in the coming weeks; months - who knows who’ll be writing the history books.
All I can say right now is that in the last 10 days, I’ve lost my country.
My mind? I left that behind long ago.
I just never expected to see the world around me devolve as well.
I was saying something about how journaling was supposed to keep me from ‘swirling’.