The
important thing is not to fool yourself into thinking that things are
returning to normal. What was normal? Did it ever exist? Can it come
back? All important questions these days. Or should it be daze?
Still
somewhat quarantined. But no one seems to know exactly what that
means.
I'm back to work at my regular part-time schedule, but it's far from normal. All of us have to wear masks. No customers—er, sorry, patrons are allowed in the library. All the business is curbside. They request books online, we gather them up, then the patron (patrón?) comes in, calls on a special line to have the books, or DVDs, or CDs brought out in plastic bag by a masked employee.
Surreal?
Sci-fi? Do we have a new word? All the old ones are seeming like
clichés.
Behold, the new clichés!
On
the home front, Emily continues to collect unemployment and proceed
with her home improvement frenzy, uncovering strange artifacts, and
even old artwork by yours truly. It's actually looking pretty good.
Damnear civilized. The decay, chaos, and entropy have been knocked
back for a while.
There's
plenty of that stuff piling up in the outside world, clogging the
streets, the news media, evolving into strange new realities.
Upheaval. Revolution. Mutation. Hang on, kids, you ain't seen nothing
yet . . .
There
are interesting developments in the witches brew.
While
I was sheltering at home, trying to finish my novel, Zyx, Or;
Bring Me the Brain of Victor Theremin,
my career has come back to life, taken off, dragging me off into the
future. Editors and publishers have gotten back to me. Pending
projects that have been in limbo are gonna happen. New
opportunities come a-knocking on my electronic doors. Watch for more
news. Soon.
Despite
what people say about it messing up everything, I've got to admit
that the social media has been very good to me. A creative weirdo
needs to seek out and connect with, and sometimes create,
an audience. And don't depend on gigantic corporations to do it for
you.
What I recommend is to
put on a mask—the pandemic is far from over, keep socially distant,
and keep your eyes and ears open. It's raining bizarreness out there,
so go and soak it up.
That's where the ideas
come from. Take the jagged fragments of a shattered world, and
reassemble them into something you want to live in.
We're seeing a collapse
happening. A lot of people are going to sink into depression. Others
are going to take advantage, and knock things in the direction of
their choice. That's what I recommend.
No
matter what happens, the new world—or should that be new
worlds?--is
going to be interesting. There's plenty of debris providing funky raw
materials--new archaeology to build a new renaissance. Why not?
Guess I better get back
to work . . .
