Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of September 12, 2021
I like to think that when our society crumbles and future humans or alien scavengers dig our civilization out of the dirt, they’ll look at the Met Gala and laugh at our absurd level of indulgence the way we look and laugh at ancient Rome.
![I Believe... [Baby Boomers With a Christian Bale Growl]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1570460748620-5XM6MIXAANNO10XTD9KD/chimpballs.jpg)
I Believe... [Baby Boomers With a Christian Bale Growl]
…that nothing is more true about the Baby Boomer generation than the truth about The Dark Knight: “You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.” Remember that Batman was always the hero.
I Am Constantly Relearning How to Love my Body
Sometimes I take selfies and I post them on the internet. I wonder if people will think I’m vain, but then I think that liking my appearance enough to be vain is itself a kind of victory.
Too Much Fun
Passed out early this morning
with a stranger's (new friend's?)
cum on my face,
after drinking too much whiskey,
talking too much,
staying out until
the wee hours of the morning.
In the Springtime of My Dystopia
There were signs. There were warnings.
We were too in love to pay much attention.
It was merely some background noise,
some clatter, inconvenient clutter.
What were those politicians droning on about?
Overly made-up talk show hosts harping on about
nonsense, trivialities, invented crises.
Grown men wearing the flag like a toga
or burning it in acts of performance art largesse.
Anxiety is the thing that’s ripped our country apart. It has divided us, caused us to fear and hate those who think and live differently than us, and even caused us to hate those who only slightly disagree with us. It has led to panic and overreaction. And I worry that American Anxiety is only going to exacerbate the social and political divide in this country to the point that there is no coming back.