Culture

I started running today after a five month hiatus. I suppose that's what happens when you're feeling low. You eat shit, drink shit, make bad decisions and work for public broadcasting. Not to say that last thing is bad. I was trying to make a joke.

I finished reading a novel called Galápagos by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. It's about the de-evolution of mankind after a cruise ship of seven living people, one dead person, one ghost and one dead dog shipwrecks on the Galápagos Islands one million years ago in 1985. That combined with the Zen I seek in running made me think a lot of about the power of the human spirit which all seems irrelevant at the end of the novel. Vonnegut has a way of doing that.

Repopulating seemed kinda sexy in a way. Where sex goes beyond desire into necessity. Humans love to pat themselves on the back for being important. They also love to pat themselves on the back for getting laid. Talk about the best of both worlds. Especially when you're the first generation after a war that destroys all your ancestors. I'm a sucker for shit like that. Importance. Passion. Comfort.

I cried the day Vonnegut died. I cried an awful lot in front of an awful lot of people. I was wicked embarrassed. People treated me like a problem case, much like nowadays. At least everyone forgot about it the day after. I sure as hell didn't. However, one kid, a jock, came up to me and said "You must really care about about him." I said I do. When Salinger died all I thought was "So it goes." How ironical.

Now I'm reading The Catcher in the Rye for the fourth time whilst listening to Bob Dylan's criminally underrated Street Legal. I find a lot of comfort in art. These two things are art. There's also white wine and whoopie pies to be had. These two things are _____.