Too late…

Too late, too late…
For anything substantial. The day sort of went – somewhere. It did signal the contrasts of where we are. There is the personal, the bits and pieces of getting by, the routine, either daily or qualitatively. The morning occupied by assembling an exercise machine, the sort of thing that comes in bits as a matter of routine rather than necessity, accompanied by a booklet of exploded diagrams of parts with highly specialised names – a jigger double left-handed gromet etc – with laconic instructions, which my daughter when young inadvertently called ‘destructions’. Anyway, it was assembled in due course, sitting on the terrace in the garden, and will serve to keep up my exercise levels at a time when I can’t go to the gym and cannot do much walking because of severe back and sciatic pains.

The other dimension is the big implications of the plague. My instinct is that we might be heading for the abyss. So many businesses shut down. So many jobs lost. So many free-lancers with their livings abruptly severed. Such huge government debts in almost every country. How can the precarious, ramshackle edifice of universal capitalism survive under its present assumptions and ‘rules’? The system has long been at a state of criticality, as interlocked technologies are poised (in an unrecognised way) to collapse through the weight of their own interdependent complexities.

That’s all. Not good but it should get better.