

I don’t know about you but I feel my insides pressing against my skin as I read yet another devastating newsflash.
We’re fucked.
The environment, people, politics. Is any of this even salvageable?
On other days, it isn’t despair, just a weirdness.
A glitch, a dissonance of sorts.
Like someone has quietly rearranged my living room without telling me. Something is off. Not fully, just slightly. And I can’t return to the before, because I’ve forgotten how it was, how it felt. Who I was.
So I’ll stay with it. This new thing. This after.
This weirdness.
Maybe that is where it all begins.
Starts hiding behind my eyelids, washing over my perspective.
Blink havoc. Blink pleasure. Blink distraction.
Blink extreme. Blink lost. Blink empty. Blink alive.
Blink all of the above.
Remember after the dentist, when I kissed you with a numb lip, and it felt weirdly sexual.
Was that me, or was that just weird?
And the other day, when we saw a seagull devour a rat.
We read it as end-times symbolism.
Plagues of frogs, rivers of blood... the gull shall eat the rat.*
Weird enough for you? How weird are things going to get?
Do you think we can use this weirding thing? Outweird the weird?
After wrestling with this sensation for a while, I think I’m ready to dance with it:
a messy, sexy love affair with weirdness.
As we face this Age of Global Weirding, maybe our only real option is to embrace the chaos, not fight or escape from it.
So join me in my Lab, a place of exploration, excess, joy, and doom.
A place for thought and failure, for unlearning and rethinking.
Let’s linger at this productive edge of being lost, until we feel enough else to imagine.
Not half-arsed.
Joyfully.
Adventurously.
All in.