Another one I clicked on just because I liked the image, with no idea what to expect when it started playing. So this Kollektiv Turmstraße, a DJ/Producer duo from Hamburg especially… for some reason their being German had me thinking perhaps it was more… strange. It’s more traditional house music or deep house, not music I usually listen to at home. It’s something I usually reserve for going out, but going out is still on hold for the foreseeable future. My mood is somewhat less dire this evening so this is working.

This is an easy soundtrack to an easy rainy evening in Brooklyn. I’m sitting here with music, and an analysis of Jean Baudrillard’s dismissive analysis of the failings of the Wachowskis The Matrix. The world outside is insane, both near and far, but it’s relatively comfortable again back here in The Bubble. I’ll call it The Bubble as opposed to The Simulation. I am outside The Simulation looking in, but perhaps my own space, or The Bubble, is just an alternate simulation. Getting a little twisted up in it there, no? It’s just words. I’m safe here for now and feel okay. The summer is nearly over. The heat will be gone soon. The days are already shorter. It was dark this morning when I took the dog out for her walk. Those are four true statements, very simple and basic. There is no conflicting evidence to refute them. I’m keeping it just that simple.

This has been the theme of the pandemic for me though. It’s been so much easier in so many ways to not have to go along to get along and navigate The Matrix. The world is no more or less chaotic really. It’s just a question of so many other people seeing what a mess it is and reacting to that, either by fighting or doubling down on the falsehoods. There was never a doubt in my mind that conflicts would heat up at some point. It was only a question of the right triggers. The economic system gets rocked by the seismic impact of COVID-19, and all of a sudden it appears that it was the distraction of consumption that kept people sedated all along. Some people have started to rise up. Others are grasping for some solid ground but making the mistake of thinking that ideology is a solid, so good luck with that. Then others are waiting it out, praying that like so many other things it all goes away and they can get on with the things the way everything was before. They’re hoping against hope that this is some temporary aberration, like a really horrid dream.

It’s not. It’s about as real as anything as ever been in our lifetimes, here in The West anyway.

Me? I’m not committing to anything yet. I’m surfing at the moment and really emotionally prepared for however things shake out. It’s not that I’m above it all in any sense of the word above. I’m just tired of fighting. Tired of ranting. Tired of raging. Fuck, I’ll officially be 59 tomorrow. That’s old. No reason to deny that. Fifty-nine is fucking old. Life looks nothing like I would have thought.

Nothing like I would have thought. But is this acceptance?

Is acceptance why I’ve not been motivated to go into some lengthy, bloated rumination on the significance of another year gone by?

Maybe.