Another climate change summer coming to an apocalyptic end. I never thought it could outdo the last one, but it does. Isn't it against some law of physics?
Somehow, in the middle of it all, my wife and I manage to find things that are strange and wonderful and worthwhile, to navigate the horror and madness.
Creativity seems to be the key. Always have something squirming around in your brain. Put your own spin in the universe. After all, you are the universe experiencing itself. Do something back when it does things to you.
Pay attention. Keep your sensory array scanning. Move around. Go places. Cherchez le weird, cabrones!
Life is interactive. Like a bullfight. Tauromaquia is the mother of all artforms, from the Neanderthal rodeo to the spaghetti western to the existential shootout between democracy and fascism in the early 21st century. Yeah, you never know if you're the matador or the bull . . .
It’s all mysterious artifacts, out of context, in unlikely locations in the end. Revel in the rasquache scramble. The landfill is archaeology is a treasure trove. All over. All the time.
Weird shit. Weird creatures and beings. Weirder than the stereotypes that society simplifies it all into.
Culture is not what you think. Art is war. Is this not the dystopia you ordered? Would you like to speak to the manager?
And just who is piloting this vehicle? Look around. You are.
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