The only thing more unsettling than the image may be the music itself. Click play on the video below if you’re not too easily creeped and freaked. This is one of the darkest dark techno sets I’ve heard yet. It’s a slasher soundtrack. It’s grindhouse. It’s an aural abbatoir, if you want to go pure corny. It’s fucking fire!

It seems like only last night I was creating a post here about the last summer weekend, and now we’re at the last of September. I blinked and a month passed. It’s not that it was entirely uneventful but it sped by in a blur. It’s only by going through blog entries and posts on Instagram that it seems it happened at all. I apparently got around the city quite a bit, but when or where or how that happened is a bit of a mystery. My recollections are hazy, cluttered with the detritus of a distracted mind. It’s a good thing that there are records of it.

I made a trek to midtown yesterday to traverse the Covid-19 tourist landscape with a new acquaintance. It’s not that it was exactly empty but I’d put the crowd at less than 20% of what it might be for a September weekend. There were just enough bodies and voices to tip the scale into less than eerie. There were no big crowds. No tour groups. The double-decker buses were nowhere to be scene. No theater crowds. The restaurants were doing minimal business. It’s going to be interesting to see how things look when and if this all passes. It’s a horrible game of last man standing. But then again, it could bring some manner of necessary adjustment. We knew we were in an economic bubble, and we all knew that it would take some form of novel event (read catastrophe) to burst it and bring things back to reasonable. I’m not going to even pretend to have an answer. I’ll make no forecasts beyond saying that if there were ever a time to make things right, it’s now, after shit fell apart. Fingers crossed. Something good has to come of all this, and it’s going to take more than voting Fuckface Von Clownstick out of office. That would be more of a symbolic victory at this point, and we need more than symbols and simulacra. It’s blind belief in symbols that got us into this mess to begin with. We need to rip it up and start again.

I’m still reeling a bit looking at the date. I’m too damn old to take time for granted and let it slip by so quickly. Please read laughter into that sentence. It’s not that it isn’t true, but my mood isn’t as bleak as that sounds.

It is, after all, another beautiful day. And I mean that.