It’s been a beautiful day, filled up with a sloppy servings of unmitigated awfulness that transmute ordinary empathy into a radical political act. In corners there is beauty and kindness, connection and sharing, love and companionship. But also distance, and loneliness, and a sense of loss.
It has been a day of both ordinary toil and singular accomplishment. I’ve had quiet confidence – I might have even been charming for a little while – and anxiety and self-doubt. Doubt is winning. I’ve progressed myself right into a closet.
Self-image, that persistent bastard, establishes the conclusion first and then mines all data with the sole, intellectually dishonest intent of proving that I’m not good enough. Fuck you, confirmation bias.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof? You bet your ass.