I will regret the naif exuberance of this tomorrow - but does it feel a little as though we were living in a depressed miasma, that a million people could march in the streets against a war and be told by the powers that be that they didn’t give a fuck, so we all sort of gave up, fell into a torpor? That there was a horrible dissonance between the abuses that we knew did matter and the paris hilton stories and gawker and snark which came to pass as valid social commentary?
It has all started to matter again. We woke up. I feel as though there are an infinite number of creative projects which were exploring something which had seemed meaningful sitting unfinished because they now seem frivolous.
There is activity which makes sense. They are going to close Guantanamo, withdraw (slowly, strategically) from Iraq. The ridiculousness we lived with which was presented as immutable is, all of a sudden, ridiculous and mutable. Reality feels tangible rather than dreamlike, and full of the possibility of good, even though one is cognizant of how difficult that reality is going to be.