Time isn’t money. Time is way more important than money.
Here I am trying to make it another three or four hours to a righteous bedtime and a restoring sleep worthy of someone much more normal than me, and that is the perfect timing to enjoy a sense of being up to speed at last.
I’m rationing out the coffee in sips, wanting to hit the finish line with exactly no energy gas left in the tank.
Part of the reason it has been hard to write over the last few days is that I have a big sprawling meta-theory developing in my brain (and it’s what I really want to talk about, but it … needs to be presented perfectly, and I am not feeling whole enough to play the song right).
This happens to me from time to time. The last big meta-theory, stated briefly, was:
‘Civilization was a wrong turn into a dead end for our species. The dawn of sedentary agriculturalism brought a lot of good things into our lives, including writing, but it was also the beginning of humans fucking themselves over once and for all and for good’.
The new theory is much less sweeping and grandiose, in that it deals with the last hundred years and not the last ten thousand. But of course I still think it’s right and complete and goes a fair distance in the direction of a grand universal theory of everything, which may or may not be my ultimate raison d’être.
Even so, I’m feeling it, and I mean it, and I want to spit it out right.
To tide you over … Rob namechecks both fascism and partisan Democrats in this one, but not capitalism. So there’s a little clue.