This is how it’s going to work. I’m going to have thoughts. And then those thoughts will find their way here. So this is a series. Of thoughts. Published randomly. For no reason. Thank you for coming.
It’s not good to have thoughts sometimes. Lately. For a while. Since 2016 for sure. But 2020 most definitely. Having said that, this is not the year for mere thinking. It’s the year for doing. Action. Curing. Voting. Repairing.
The only way to avoid thoughts is being in a coma. Or dead. (This is not a slight to those in a coma or dead). And neither are palatable options at the best of times. Especially now. Especially if you are NOT an asshole. Though the not-assholes always have to fix what the assholes have wrought and that’s not fair. I agree. But that’s the way the world works. It always has.
We are in this predicament because a lot of people are assholes. This is not a surprise. These people will believe anything that validates their world view. Especially if their worldview is…unpalatable.
Canadians, despite our reputation for being nice (unearned, but “nice” is relative), are assholes. Massively corrupt ones (this story still has the potential to bring down Prime Minister Cool Socks, though I doubt it will because most Canadians are very very very passive — or passive aggressive, which is far worse; we’re also complicated and can be both at the same time.) Being an asshole is part of the human condition. It is universal. Overcoming assholes is what gives us art. Even if the art is created by … assholes.
Covid is, of course, the asshole of the year. And from the sounds of it, for many years to come. Even if we eradicate the thing, the impact of it, from real estate (commercial for sure, residential not so much) to how we work (not in offices) to what we eat (not seated in restaurants), or how we watch movies (not in theatres), or where we holiday (ha!), or how we travel (by train, probably, and also on government-run airlines in a lot of places) you name it, we’ll be feeling this for years. If not decades.
I despair for people who own restaurants. (I also despair for people who own bars.) I love food. I love cooking (I did before being stuck at home and I probably love it more now). This didn’t stop me from buying a stupid Instant Pot this past week because of fucking Amazon but mostly because I, too, am an asshole. And the idea of cooking a stew in an hour (!) is tempting. Because winter is coming. And I live in Montreal.
And though the news gets me down (like, a lot), joy still exists. Some small and simple, some larger (the reason for this joy is not joyful, it is the defiance — and the solidarity — exhibited by these people that is), more hopeful. And it is in recognizing this joy, that perhaps we can overcome this moment. And ensure that we do the things necessary to maintain that joy in a sustainable manner. Sustainable joy. Hope even.
What a concept.
Love > hate
Tacos > Takos
This podcast conversation > this one (don’t get me wrong, both are great — the latter exists, however, for amazingly awful reasons, but it is also the one seeking solutions to all the crap surrounding us, so perhaps not “greater than” — these are my words, fuck off)
Whales > Birds that use whales as floating buffets
My dog > yours