I have no reason to feel optimistic. Actually, I don’t like feeling optimistic about things; too much like thin ice. Still, I find myself seeing ways out of the Beckett box*. I don’t know where the optimism is coming from, what with the weight of obligation and the general going-to-hellness of the world. I blame Whil Wheaton and Jukebox the Ghost, blame them for the strange dangerous exuberance, blame them for the early January careless, carefree TDEC. I’m turning thirty-one soon, and in three years I will have to forego my foolish way and repent for my youthful sins and be a real adult. Better make the most of it.
Meanwhile I am watching CES coverage – we really are living in the future.
*When I was in college, a guest lecturer on Samuel Beckett described him as drawing a square on the floor, and then exclaiming that he was imprisoned. It is a great description of Beckett, but also of the many ways in which we imprison ourselves with the everyday. Hence the Beckett box.