Three Dollar Quill

I started writing this shortly after the last entry because I couldn't get to sleep. The Trump administration is doing things so nakedly imperialist that it feels absurd not to say anything, but I'm once again wary of speaking outside of my areas of something vaguely resembling expertise. Counterpoint: I clearly have more grounded opinions than Chuck Schumer, so go off I guess.

So much of existing in America is being confronted with countless wars that are forced to be nameless, or to bear euphemistic names. Wars against people who were just minding their business, wars against people who are nominally American citizens, at least for now. Wars, wars, wars, constantly and everywhere, but we just hear that everything is normal and functional. Every predictable outcome of these wars is an unfortunate coincidence, or a clear consequence of poor moral character—and the victims must have poor moral character, for if such things were to happen to someone with good moral character, that would be monstrous, and we cannot be living in a world so unjust. (Never mind that this is monstrous regardless of the moral character of the victims.) Wars, wars, wars, attempting to wring out valor and glory, as though we could make something good or beautiful out of valor and glory, whatever they may be, however they are to be found in these daily atrocities, as if such absurd vanity, such poisonous fear of irrelevance, could bear wholesome fruit.

Every year of my life, the gilt flaked off of the previous year's golden idealism, but another shining vision of tomorrow arose to replace it. I have seen so many shining visions, I fear I'm going blind. Perhaps that is why I cannot see the next.

Not a reaction to a single event, but the inevitable consequence of so many such events...

I don't want glory. I have too clear an image of the pathology of fame, one of many poisons that has been sold as a tonic. I merely want the chance to create something that I can understand as good. But how can I trust it to stay that way? If I create art, will people I've never met nor heard of twist it to support new atrocities? If I create tools, will they be turned against the biosphere in the name of profit?

I know I can't give up, but right now, I can't see a clearer vision of moving forward than to simply continue, one step at a time, trusting my instincts to guide my path. It doesn't feel good, but it will have to be enough.

By the way, you should definitely read what actually informed people have to say about our entire multi-century situation. I'm writing totally off-the-cuff here, and I don't think any part of interacting with this blog post is praxis. (But I could be wrong. Again, seek out relevant expertise.)

Good night.