#227

Well! The year twenny-twenny will, I suppose, retain infamy for some time. 

Guaranteed, we will be seeing phrases to the effect of "then 2020/covid, and everything changed" for years, in articles, essays, stories, social media posts, advertisements...boys, we gonna prove that we know about twenty-twenty for the rest of our natural lives; so will a few of our direct descendants, and those who seek the new longevity, for however long it takes to work the year out of our system. 

Probably though I would hazard that deucetwenny will be one of those years that people learn about in history books. A lot more died last year than just people, and it seems very probable twentwent will be a cap year for a set of years that change the world dramatically.

Plus, the blog didn't update once! Among the great turbulences and mindquakes of that wild and crazy two thousand and twenty, year of, historians will not fail to note that Factually Pointless took its first gap year. 

Or, indeed, so much more crazy fucked-up shit could happen in the next fifty years that the drama of these upheavals will be barely thought about, and the blog will only be accessible as a direct mind-dump to individuals with illegally modified neural implants. Yeah, you gonna feel me think my contraband thoughts in real-time and my own brainprint, baby, and it's gonna be all intimate. Get ready.

Anyhow, it is no doubt easy to surmise that I was busy, as well as distracted, so for any number of reasons (some of which I will elaborate on in coming days), posting was unfeasible.

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Collapse is singularity and singularity is collapse. Nothing will ever be the same, and nothing is really that different. Truly it is the age of the paradox.

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Well, it's 2021 and time to start making posts again. I put out a brand new book on the last day of 2020. A collection of poems called Broken Arrow, Laudable Marauder. New author page, old books are not on it, but that will be remedied in due time. Meant to start bloggin away again in January, but I didn't! So what. Read my book.

Praise be that we should live to interpret days such as ours.

--JL