A very productive little day, hanging out and nearly chillin’, slow attention to everything behind and everything ahead through the end of the year and then some.
In the short/medium term the point of the exercise is to GTFO, a permanent end to wage slavery and a strategic retreat into living simply, with art at the center. Even simple living, as defined in this world, requires a paid-up place to camp and a perennial stream of green. Ephemeral channels need not apply, because even intermittent poverty is a threat to creative composure.
Sometimes I think about the long term too.
I don’t spill and I won’t write because I want a bestseller and a monsoon flood of riches and fame. I just want to do a good job, however that ends up defining itself, and to not have to worry about trying to get by on cat food sandwiches meanwhile.
I don’t think I spill, or will write, in order to be read in English classes after I am dead. Legacy is not my cup of tea really; if I’d wanted it I would have had kids.
Sometimes I fantasize about being the One read by the aliens, after we’re all gone. But that’s not particularly motivating either, or likely anyway. I haven’t even got my pomes up on a website, much less and entombed set of metal plates.
I am no Prepper. I am however an Apocalyptic. And so, in a certain fashion, are the minds behind the Collapse Operating System.
If you like operating systems, and you like apocalyptic modes of thought, then you’re like me and we are tribally connected.
So you might enjoy some aimless reading, along the lines of:
I’d like to see a log being kept in orbit, or
I don’t think, though, that ‘society’ will be coming back from the next big one. I could be wrong. But that’s my prediction, anyway.
The present moment thus becomes ever more important. History is luscious and instructive. The process of planning for theoretical futures is endlessly alluring.
Now is all we ever really have.