I keep going into places and they keep playing AC/DC. On Sunday it’s a place called Bookland and the song is You Shook Me All Night Long. This is a song that came out in 1980. I was twelve. It seemed aggressively stupid even then, the perfect song for all those pointless bush parties yet to come, which I guess is the point. However, I am now 51. // A compelling example of 1980’s thinking, and why things will never change. // A painting about limbo. // At lunch I flee the office, go out walking for an hour, across the playing fields and the Causeway, not far (maybe four kilometres round trip) and not fast (I’m always back just past the hour) but at least I’m in the world, as long as the weather lasts. Thursday is typical, mailing a small painting down to Utah and then buying a used book about the strange, affected man called Andy Warhol. // All over the Maritimes this summer I saw signs for the WRONG WAY. // Quantum computers: yet another reason why we have maybe ten years of normal life left. // Suddenly my work email is flooded with spam, emails riddled with gibberish English, from photonic entities like ‘Lyla Roueche’ and ‘Neo Demange’, who can’t even be bothered to correspond the addresses accordingly, perhaps with something believable, instead it’s all firstname.lastname@example.org or induisentJailu@1o0nwnavey2.eqr.plasmapen-us.com. Strings of garbage. They insist that my order has been processed and $2,814 has been debited. How to arrive at such a number. // Ric Ocasek dies. // A painting about villains. // Three drawings about wrath. // I read The Biggest Game in Town, by Al Alvarez — ostensibly a book about gambling but more about Las Vegas and the 1981 World Series of Poker. Stu Ungar won the event, and $375 000 (these were early days), and would go on to win over $30 million from poker, but his ending would be grim. // I am struggling with The Stand. // The commissionaires of PSAC Local 818 have been on strike for twelve weeks. They stop me and give me their flyers. They want sick days and a boot allowance. I feel bad for them, because it’s 2019 and people resent unions, or anybody getting anything. After forty years of the neo-liberal project and accelerated individualism, everything is now projected through the narrow lens of self-interest. // Hockey is starting, apparently. I saw Paul Maurice on television. He used to be the young coach. Now he looks like somebody’s probation officer.
p.s. Today’s quotation is from Douglas Horton, a clergyman of the old school.
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