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The Crash

This is time of the year when I am the most tired, when I wonder what the point of it all is, and wouldn't it be nice to just not.

The reason for this is because this is the time when I have to most immerse myself in the task of writing a new political play for the Mime Troupe, which means this is when I have to constantly read and analyze the news. Nothing is more disheartening than going through news feeds multiple time an hour to examine events and the zeitgeist: stupidity cruelty greed greed greed plastics in the air climate change rights striped away racial division extinction extinction corporate hegemony ecological devastation children murdered civilians bombed disaster disaster death death death fascism hatred fascism hatred distraction distraction distraction distraction distraction it's pointless it's pointless everything is pointless humans are the worst we've got forty years left we've got twenty years left we've got eight years left my son has eight years left it's a cliff we've fallen off a cliff and most people are looking up at the cliff nostalgic about the cliff as the ground is rushing up towards us where's the rope is there a rope it there a cushion is there anything some spark of wisdom some hope of evolution change change change in time change dead dead dead dead dead dead dead deadline deadline deadline deadline


So that's why this is a tiring time of the year for me.

I sometimes tell people each script is like a terrifying, nearly disastrous plane ride: you take the audience up, establish the rules of the flight, then at some point the plane starts to dip. Almost imperceptibly at first, then increasingly the plane is falling into a nose dive, hurtling down at the ground in a seemingly inevitable tragic crash, only to pull up at the last possible moment. The question each time is how close to the ground can I get before I pull up? The problem is I have to put myself through that dozens and dozens of times, from every perspective and with storylines I may never even use, to write each play. Farce may be tragedy sped up, but I have to go through the tragedies of the world slowly. I have to crawl through each character's despair regarding real-life issues, go step-by-step through their well-justified hopelessness in the face of The World being not the place they thought it was, but a place ruled by Fear and brutal Power. I have to ride in their minds as they realize that humanity is and has always been its own worst enemy, and that those that have the most control of our societies are exactly the sort of manipulative egomaniacal psychopaths you wouldn't trust to keep your goldfish alive - let alone put in charge of the futures of millions tens of millions billions of humans who just want a peaceful place they can take a nap, maybe raise a kid. I get to put the spark of hope in each character's eyes then extinguish it, as I see it extinguished around the world in story after story after story after story after story after story.

I have to aim my plane personal at the ground every year, and try to pull up at the last moment, and each year the plane gets a little closer to the ground.

Comedy. I pull up with comedy. That's all I have, but it is the best.

Comedy is the thin but impenetrable shield of objectivity, and the weapon against which there is no defense. It is the undeniable delivery system of harsh truths.

But every year the World gets a little/ a lot sharper, the truths a little more desperate, the shield gets a little thinner, and the deadline a little more urgent.

And I am so facedown in the terrible it makes it harder and harder to remember to pull up.

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Ha. The Crash. How appropro:

Cya soon, incredible indelible...

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