From Buenos Aires, just over a week ago. Brand new stuff. What do you call it? What is it? There are a lot of tags and descriptors.
It’s just music, really. Slow and lazy, it moves along like the mercury dropping after dark. It doesn’t go very far and it doesn’t get there quickly. It’s just kind of there, like the heavy air. That’s the word for it really. It’s technically vaporwave but it’s a heavy, wet vapor. It’s steam rising off hot pavement after a light rain. You know those rains. The ones where you get hopeful that it’s going to come down hard and cool things off, with cool air behind it. Then all it does is hiss on the asphalt and evaporate right in front of you.
It’s just music.
The funny thing about this heat (not haha funny) is that it’s really almost gone. We are nearly halfway through August and it may or may not be a hot autumn, but days are already shorter. The summer is slipping by a lot more quickly than it seems. I’m not quite sure where it went, but all this is nearly gone. It will be cold soon, or cooler anyway.
Fuck this. I hate carrying on about the weather. If it comes down to talking about the weather then it’s probably best to stop talking, right? There must be some action.
It’s Monday morning. Just get up and move. Do something.
One quick note: We were talking over the past week about unraveling family mysteries and personal histories. About going back to relatives and digging in to harvest further information. Each and every family has their clan mythology and you reach a point where you know that most of it is bullshit so you venture out to get the “truth.”
I’ve rarely met a person who has attempted this and got a satisfying result. I’ve never met anyone who’s tried and not gotten a lot of information they would have rather not known about. Or they’ve run into more dishonesty and obfuscation. Just plain frustration.
What’s the end game with these endeavors? How do you profit? Perhaps the only good reason to try is to get medical histories so you might know what to watch out for, but I’ve never known anyone who didn’t to some degree regret asking questions. For one reason or another. They either never get the truth or they get a truth that is more disturbing than not knowing at all. There is never any kind of closure or peace.
More on this another time.