You know, you hear this all the time in schools and with parents and teachers, and on the media, and all over the place about this problem that kids can’t read.
Here we go, past Adam and Eve, from Eastest Asia, through Greco-Roma and Indo-Persia, to ChristEuropa and America, and now The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerontuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!), a Vican recirculation.
Hail to the artists! Come out, come out, you venerable souls! Pens, Brushes, Cameras, Woodwinds, Strings! Come out, come out, you shy little shits!
There is a detached surrealism about these days, a zooming-in and out of a distant dream. On the surface, normalcy seems intact. The sun ascends the horizon. Oxygen flows in and out. Birds chirp and breezes dance in the trees.
Today is Friday, March 13, 2020, and my, what a day for words.