I had no idea of where 2023 would take me. Now that I’m almost halfway through it, I’m in the middle of stuff I couldn’t have predicted, but then, science fiction writers have been traditionally lousy at predicting the future.
Emily has a new job. I'm eyeballs deep in all kinds of things that I’ve never done before. Most importantly, we’re happy.
My tendency to be at odds with my environment and do creative things to amuse myself out of the conflicts come in handy. I thank Xochiquetzal and Tezcatlipoca for my monstrous imagination.
There are monsters out there, all over. My warped inner child is ecstatic. I can’t tell if I’m making them or discovering them. It doesn’t matter, as long as they are there.
Meanwhile, the outside world (outside of what? who? where?) is in turmoil. The word “surreal” keeps being used by people who would never consider themselves surrealists. Found objects and situations have made imagination unnecessary for this mode of expression.
Just keep moving forward. The road, path, trail have much to teach you. They are god.
Be careful. Be aware. Pay attention. Exist defensively.
An era is ending. You don’t have to go far to see fresh ruins. What will replace all the abandoned shopping malls?
Ready to get up after being torn apart, and make the post-apocalyptic landscape into an outrageous utopia?