Breaks the Chain and Frees the Animal

Went to get out of the house today but couldn't decide where to go. 

I'm all executive dysfunction this afternoon. Do I clean the house? Do i clean the garage? Do I respond to the family emails that have been moldering in my inbox? Do I fix the to wonky fence planks in the backyard? Do I rearrange my closet? Do I apply to another ten job postings that aren't going to call me back? To I read another hundred pages in the slab-thick novel I started because I'd read everything else in the house? 

Do I start a YouTube Channel? Do I go back to school? Do I finally get around to burying my parents? Do I flee the country? Do I memorize the Bible? Do I take up professional poker? Do I get a tan, even though it's February? Do I staple bagels to my face and then remove them with a pitchfork? Do I teach my new dog old tricks? Do I eat some Trix? Do I turn some tricks? Do I solve the human condition? Do I set out for the New World? Do I binge watch the 007franchise, and if I do, do I include the original 'Casino Royale' or 'Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare.'? Do I learn to pray? Do I learn to hunt? Do I worry if Ethan Hunt is a better spy than James Bond? Do I do it all again?

Do I forgive myself?

Does it matter?

This Coffee Sucks

This place is as different as it ever was the same, and I think that's the point - seventies color choices, nineties music, 'oughts architecture, and tomorrow's prices, today. So many hard edges and no friendly faces. No friendly faces anywhere, not on the passers by outside, not on the distant faces of the fellow patrons lost in bluelight portals, not in the face of the barista who can't be bothered to say hello, who just stares expecting me to talk first. 

The whole world seems unfriendly these days. Real friends seem fewer while para-social friends' curated facades turn to paste. Desolate job market. K-shaped economy. It's all trickled down, hasn't it? Hustle hassle Hansel hopes the last good thing doesn't get enshittified before he becomes a late-adopter and I'm just angry all the damn time.

 

 An entire world of silent compatriots getting fucked by assholes on the hedonic treadmill.  

I can't find a parking space.

I can't find coffee cheaper than gasoline.

I can't find real wired headphones.

I can't find what you're talking about in the ToS.

I can't find a decent book, or anyone who's read a decent book in the last year, but plenty of people who'll go on about the audiobook they listened to set in the world of their favorite video game. 

I can't find a reason to be excited about anything. 

I can't find a reason for Martin to be in the Garden of Eden.*

I can't find a passable carbonara.

I can't fiend in a world without cigarettes.

I can't find the 'on' switch for the hedonic treadmill.

I can't find a way out of the morass we've all made for ourselves because we were too nice to the assholes before we realized how far their assholism could go.

I can't find a way out of the morass I've made for myself because I was too nice to my alcoholism before I realized how alcoholic I could go. 

I can't find a place where the alarmists were wrong. 

I can't find my passport.

I can't find the reason I started writing today.

I cant't cope with the word 'enshittification' not tripping the spell-check.

Maybe I'll write more tomorrow.

* No, you're not supposed to understand that part. This is about my depression, not about you.