Every time I end a phone call with my dad, who lives in Venezuela while I started a new life in Canada, he sends me a blessing followed by "life is short, time waits for no one, enjoy it". When I share this with others they see it almost as a negative or doomed perspective of things ahead. I've never perceived it that way, on the contrary, it pushes me through to appreciate and take advantage of anything that might cross my way, good or bad, I let it come to me and I embrace it as it is, no more, no less (easy to say, but hard to practice). I like to hear it, I like that he is conscious about it and he wants me to be as well.
However, at the same time, I must confess I've developed some kind of fear, almost panic, to the passing of time. Like seeing an avalanche coming your way, faster and faster, unstoppable. It's a weird sensation to have that level of awareness, I ignore if it is a common cognitive sensation we all have and share, or just me becoming paranoid at my 30's. Normally I would say it is just a crisis, but this feeling has been around since my teens. In the meantime, I'll keep calling my dad, the poet, as much as life allows me to, just to refresh my memory and give me an overdose of reality and a well-needed blessing.
We’re halfway through 2023 and critics are slouching towards their Best Records Of The Year So Far lists. They’re rarely happy about it. If dicing releases every 12 months is arbitrary, then six months is labor on a factory line, wood chips for the content mill. But this year, I feel like they hate these lists more than usual. They’re having a hard time picking much. And maybe you are, too. P...
At the close of 2022, Bitcoin wasn’t just down—it was so down that its precipitous fall was breaking records. One report from Bank of America suggested that the collapse in value was the fifth-worst for any asset in financial history. Despite steady gains this year, it hasn’t even come close to its November 2021 peak, and now things are about to get shaken up like a bead in a baby’s rattle w...
In Ari Aster’s 2016 short film C’est La Vie, Chester Crummings, a homeless man, speaks directly and combatively to camera about his life and society at large as he wanders the streets of LA, surviving, begging for change and casually murdering people. At one point, he says: “You know what Freud says about the nature of horror? He says it’s when the home becomes unhomelike. Unheimlich.”
In Sig...
