No Proscenium

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Morning Apathy & Reality Bubbles

It’s a mistake to turn to Twitter first thing in the morning, while still in bed. Inevitably, these days, it is a blast of horror. At least five genuine outrages boil the blood before my feet hit the floor. Add to that a dozen items that are seen to be outrages through the eyes of others.

By the time I make it to the bathroom my empathy circuits are fried. The troubles of the world are far beyond my ability to influence. What am I going to do about Gaza? Arms proliferation? A recalcitrant Congress?

Better, perhaps, to be the guy who lives inside a reality bubble of his own. Where the normal rules of cause and effect don’t matter.

Two days ago I was on a coffee break when I found a new model Ford illegally parked at the bottom of a stairwell in a Culver City strip mall. Its windows were down, the key in the ignition and the engine was running. There wasn’t a soul around for 100 feet in any direction.

The impish thought that I should move the car to one of the five open spots nearby came up. Just to teach the driver a lesson that your really shouldn’t leave your fucking car running while unattended.

Stepping inside the Coffee Bean I found a weathered middle aged man in tennis clothes hassling the staff. He wanted his iced latte put in his old Starbucks Venti cup that he’d doubled. The staff wouldn’t put the drink in the cup, because they’re not allowed to put out their product with the enemy’s branding.

On the surface this looks like the case of an environmentalist versus corporate bullshit, but you know where this is going.

As I headed back out to the parking lot Venti cup followed me. He got right into that idling Ford.

He lives in his own universe, and has clearly got access to enough resources to finance his alternative take on our shared reality. I wonder which came first, and if that kind of thinking is the only way to cope with our made planet.