Cassandra’s memo to herself after laying out the cards
Events this overbearing leave you with the growing sense that unless you foreground them like everybody else, you have no position to speak from and no business speaking. But though I’m afraid of what’s happening, and deeply angry about the loss of the Postwar Settlement, I have no imaginative interest in the inevitable consequences, which will resemble precisely what they are: the most easily-imagined dystopias of the mid 1970s, the low-hanging fruit picked by the Late New Wave. Why would a prophet revisit old prophecies? The near future will anyway be better engaged by people younger, more intelligent, more energetic and more politically practical than me. For the first time I’m beginning to feel genuinely rather than performatively old. Meanwhile the internet tropification–as ruin tourism and edgeland porn–of almost every symbol in the major arcana has left me with nowhere exciting to look. I’m in need of new omens and new ways of managing them. How meaningless to invoke Future #16 when the tower has already fallen on you!