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On the surface, things feel mundane. There’s work, a lot of work, and work is good and I’m grateful for that. There’s reading the news every day and watching that godawful election burn down in slow motion and I feel distant from that but it seems like the only public conversation left these days.
Yes, there’s a brilliant spark of creative intent at the beginning of all things but also: random chance, bad luck, sunshine, shitloads of human free will, evolution (maybe? don’t judge me), and lots of general shenanigans / fuckery. (how long O Lord?)