mom talks about the endtimes and i talk about the collapse. mom was a biology teacher. we used to go into the woods to study plant life. i learned about deer moss and reindeer lichen and other stuff i forgot. she knew the science before the collapse but it wasn't taught it wasn't meant to be and she lives in florida now for a long time in the villages, a vast complex of elders where the only industry is retirement and they can't get people to work for the minimum wage with the money of a lifetime to spend in the endtimes. it's the land of freaks like desantis and trump. i may have to go there sometime and i'm scared. how long can we go on talking on the phone about the virus and the collapse. we get dramatically bored talking anyway. we're so bored we're overwhelmed or so overwhelmed we're bored of ourselves and i think the advantage of the endtimes is the prospect of an actual end and a possible god whereas the collapse just keeps on happening.

it, what it is, just keeps on draggin' the line, like the refrain of a song we can't remember the end of, endlessly diminishing and burgeoning, collapsing around us in the heat dome, and the fires and the floods, separated by circumstance in the same cursed place. 

post dat. the word of the day is, voila! evanesce.