Brokes-it

I’m writing this week’s post late but since this is my site I can just back date it (EDIT: Turns out I can’t do that, my plan is fucked) and no-one will ever be the wiser except the few people that actually bother to read this right now. (Unless some distant future historians are raking through ancient blog posts. Hi future people, you need to find something better to do with your time.) I was hoping to edit a podcast trailer and post that at some point but I’ve been busy (doing other stuff) so I haven’t even had a chance to look at it, or anything else.

I feel like I should write something about the on-going cluster-omni-fuckshambles that is Brexit but I’ve been so busy I haven’t even been paying attention to news or social media at all, so right now I’m completely uninformed about the whole thing, (which could probably be said about most of the cabinet) and I’m feeling pretty zen about that. I think I’ve become kind of numb about it all. It feels like it’s been so obvious for so long that it’s all a complete disaster that I’m past being shocked or worried or even really giving a fuck. I have a sort of passing interest in seeing what happens, like a TV show you used to watch but don’t really keep up with any more. If I can’t do something about the poor writing and complete lack of likeable characters, I’m not going to keep watching.

The other day, when a bunch of people started resigning, I was working in my flat. My flatmate was in the living room keeping abreast of everything that was happening, and every so often, when I went to make a cup of tea, or go to the toilet, I’d get the latest updates. (like an Amazon Echo that doesn’t spy on you) It reminded me of September the 11th. In 2001 I was working on a weighbridge at a grain storage plant, farmers brought in wheat/barley/oats, I weighed them trailers in and out. I didn’t have a radio but everyone that came in had been listening to the news as they drove and I got a new, tiny fragment of information with each person. Each one adding to the picture of a slowly unfolding catastrophe that will leave people dead or traumatised, that I have no power to stop or influence at this point, and that leaves me dumbfounded when I try to work out if the people doing it truly think it’s going to improve anything.

That’s what Brexit feels like.

nondescriptGBrexit, rant, lateComment