
8:56 AM
Inauguration Day is upon us and we seem to have lost both Magical Davids days before both Trump terms.
And I feel, in a word, stateless.
The films of David Lynch resonate now more clearly than ever. He seemed to know we were in Trump's America before we did, dialing into a collective, wholesome American nostalgia that, when peeled back, reveal a bloody, depraved mess.
Inauguration Day is tomorrow and we seem to be living in the second half of a Lynch film.
I hold on to a just world that was explained to me as a child. Moral imperatives from Sunday School seats. Liberty and justice for all. Shining city on a hill, yadda yadda.
But I guess, just like members of Q, I go on believing in such a place despite heaps of evidence to the contrary.
This is how it is, now and for the foreseeable future. And I don't feel at home in this world anymore.
Stateless.
We've lost both Davids, and I sense there must be something to the unified field.
To statelessness as a way of being.
As a way of finding home.
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What I’m reading: Christine (Stephen King)
What I'm listening to: Numero 95Â (Compilation)
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