Medium Delirium

Life of late: sliding off the tail end of a huge mountain of work from the past few weeks. Feels not unlike careening headlong down a bumpy hillside, only to be spat off a cliff’s edge at the end for a few pleasurable moments of weightlessness.

Discovered Phoebe Bridgers last week and her music has consumed me, body mind and spirit. Motion Sickness has been on endless loop on the speakers and in my head.

Sketches, hastily entered into a note on my phone:

Morning

The sun is hidden still, but a patch of its glow already stains the sky orange. Within minutes – set to the sound of bird calls – the stain spreads persistently but almost imperceptibly, softening and widening till it fills a sky lumpy with clouds.

The monk in a grey habit and a Timbuktu backpack slung over his shoulder, tapping with Apple Pay on the exit gantry of the bus.

An elderly lady hobbles carefully along in an outfit of simple home wear – faded tee, limp cotton shorts – with the exception of the baby pink bucket hat emblazoned with the single word SUPREME in chilli red.

Been thinking about the notion of a shelf life on social media – if you build a career, indeed an entire personality, around your social media activity, how long could that truly last in any meaningful way? This is of course no riddle; the answer is without a doubt, not very long at all. The real mystery, then, is why do it? Secondary to that lies the more sinister question of how you will fall.