There is nothing good to be said for where we are. All is destruction. Death and disaster. From the petty opportunism of rip offs and cheats, to the tragic death of the innocents and naïve. Teens killed on the city streets, random bombing of those far off, with ‘civilian casualties’ every day. I am sure this perpetual disaster is not pre-ordained, not prescribed, not always already anticipated in Kali-Yug, or the annals of nations (this has happened before, it will happen again). But the pigeons come home to roost in friendly fire, in the farcical rerun of Vietnam in Iraq, in the endless unwinnable wars of Afghanistan; as the criminal class lords it above, as Rome itself burns again. The horror of death that recurs throughout every imperial, colonial, commercial crime turns itself now into the annual bonus, the stock market gain, the dow/nasdaq/city index. The register of despair ignored and excused renders optimism obscene. I’ve run hours in the morning through empty streets thinking there’s no point, there’s no good reason, there’s no chance the flab will be shed, the years melt away, the prospects clear, the weather look fine, the war be over, the peace break out. I can’t tell you be patient, be strong, the good will prevail. They won’t, they’re dead. Killed in a stupid sacrificial suicidal frenzy. Thank fuck they’ve gone, now we can get on with stuff.