Archive for June, 2017


Years ago (ALMOST A DECADE AGO, FRIENDS) this space brought me into contact with like-minded people who made my life fuller and better. I’m not certain the internet can still do that. If 2007 was like making friends in elementary school, 2017 is like making friends at your part-time work-from-home job. There is no path to a reality that has new friends in it these days.

Or perhaps I’m just getting older.

Trump is the (p)resident of the United States.

Let’s let that sink in. (It still hasn’t sunken in.) It feels, perhaps as it should, like he is not really the person who helms this country. Maybe the cognitive dissonance that those two words, president and Trump, strung next to one another on our sad little macaroni necklace of a country, isn’t dissonance at all. Maybe it feels wrong because it is wrong, because he didn’t win, because hacking or PsyOps or whatever the fuck.

It is June and politics hasn’t faded to the background. And at the same time, writing feels more vital now, to nearly everyone I know, than it did a year ago. I worry that this is so because things really are that bad–like, 1939 Poland bad. I read so much and wrote so much about art and politics for so many years. And then I stopped. And then November happened. And there’s just SO MUCH. Like if I were teaching American Government and National Identity Since November 2016, I’d have to ignore 3/4 of what has been going on. I’d have to strategize in order not to overwhelm the students, so I’d say, Okay, let’s just teach whatever happened every Wednesday (because Tuesdays, for some reason, and always Friday nights, are bonkerbatshitstuffhappening overloads).

Oh, right, so I’m back over here because the blog I migrated to Squarespace no longer exists. I was going to start a new one, but it didn’t happen. So many P.S.’s in the time since I had even that blog, let alone this one.

P.S. I finished school.

P.S. I almost dissolved my marriage.

P.S. I had another kid. (Not to save the marriage, promise.)


P.S. I am aimless and directionless.

P.S. Really, mid-30s? Is this how you’re going to play me?




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