The semester is winding up, so I don’t have much to say. Keeping my eyes focused on Gaza and New York City for the moment. Not a lot of room for anything else, but fiction helps. Fiction helps.
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I’m pleased to report that these stay safely on the lifelong-favorites shelf.
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I don’t know, man. Shit’s fucked. It’s 93 degrees Fahrenheit and 40% atmospheric humidity here in KCMO — closer than I ever want to be to wet-bulb territory, and the worst is yet to come! Here’s some locals trying to do something about that, and here’s some books. Links go to Bookshop, as per.
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It’s been a rockier road with reading, though I see now that I said roughly the same thing the last time I subjected everyone to my reading list. I also neglected to mention what else was on my plate while I was being underwhelmed by Eugene Thacker, so we’ll start there.
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I think that this resonates with many of us because we were given such reason to hope for the future when we were younger and it didn’t pan out. We were born in the “End of History,” when western liberal democracy had triumphed over the Soviet Union, and the future was supposed to just be an asymptotically perfecting version of the present with no huge revisions.
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