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Maybe I'm functioning
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I haven't watched Futurama in a long time, it's still funny
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I randomly watched an episode of Futurama this week and was reminded that Beck was a musician. Bender was caught in a can opener and started a foundation for broken robots. The head of Beck helped organise a "Bend-Aid" concert. I remember three of his albums, which means I cared enough to listen to three of Beck's albums. But then life happened, and I didn't care enough to remember his existence. Cue Futurama rerun and I realised that I hadn't listened to Beck in more than a decade. I wondered what he's up to now, as if we'd been friends.
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I started thinking about parasocial memory and how our relationships with celebrity affect our growth and development. Culture influences who we become, which leads to the bemusement surrounding the idea that some things should or should not be more or less accessible. I followed my memories to thinking about censorship and onward to regulations, AI and f)(&ing morality. No wonder I make myself tired – I'm having these thoughts for free.
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The broken brain thing makes everything hard. Seriously, I'm starting to understand how absolutely stupid and trashy it is to have mental health issues. I've always just pushed away the reality because I'm a "high functioning" depressed crazy person. I've always gotten up anyway and, if I'm honest, been judgey af about people who don't. No one is happy, not even the happiest people so wtf. Oh, here's a surprise, I'm sad about the human condition again.
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Maybe I'm writing
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My day job dreaming up ambitious digital / learning / community strategies and programmes gets in the way of my creative endeavours. I run out of energy. Or perhaps I'm just very poor at prioritising?
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In a moment if genius, I thought up the tenth name for my next book. Or my next next book, depending on when I get which sort of inspiration. I have two in my head, fully formed yet unwritten. One is about trauma or grief or mortality or existentialism or just plan old death. The other one is called Maybe Vampires and is the sequel to the (as if this writing still relatively unknown) novel Maybe Zombies. I can't believe you haven't read that yet.
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The one about grief has several titles, this week's is 'Seasons Make Me Sad" and for the first time ever, I've considered that this book is a novel. This might seem like a small decision but it is, in no way, less than revolutionary. The handbook to grief is actually a novel. I just need to write it.
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Maybe I need help?
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There is a lot of art in the world. I'd like to make some more. What have you been up to?
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