- Talk Show
- Cold
- Cynical
- Informative
- Trashy
It’s 10.05 local time. It’s Saturday. You feel it don’t you? That space around you, that cavity into which your form has nestled into. That vacancy that was left for you, beyond you. One you seem to constantly enter but never fill. How does it feel? Breath into it. Some people call it mindfulness. But you know better than to think that. Because all that whirring and buzzing all around you, that chatter that never stops, all those noises, you know it’s not mind. You know mind can’t reach this. Somewhere a ship is on its way to India carrying uranium. Mindfulness doesn’t know how to get along with that. No incense burns off that other silence that will never go quiet. Something like hardened time. You feel it. That descent – that slope from a temporary pleasure now past, 8, 10, 24 hours ago – but definitely no longer than that. But you look around, there’s a conveyer belt, a momentum pushing you up an incline towards that weekly judgment day: Monday morning. You feel it don’t you? – that stuck treadmill cycling between future and end. There are so many ways to combine those words. A future end, an end to the future (stop), an end to the future in the other sense of end (purpose), an end to the future (return), an end that gives the future, a future that is not quite an end. A future that never ends. Somewhere in that there should be a present but it’s all lost in the pulsing. End, ends, endings, that treadmill looping. They could fall together so nicely, future and end. But that would need you to extend them both to infinity. Which you can’t. Because its 36 hours until you fall asleep amongst Monday. And that’s not an end. It’s just a beginning. And beginnings don’t have futures before they’re begun. It would be so cosmic if it didn’t require a phone alarm. Here’s your wake up call: it’s 10.10. It’s your Saturday Morning Apocalypse.
Featuring additional works by:
Nathan Gray – THE MARLAANGU PROJECT
Additional Texts:
Jacob Taubes – Community after the Apocalypse
GAS
