7:09 am: it’s overcast, rainy, and dark. The weak morning light is barely indistinct from the ashen pink of an overcast night sky. Streetlights are on. Mornings like this don’t recommend the day. It’s tough to get out of bed. My apartment’s 5 degrees too cold, and I’m hungry but have nothing to eat.
My post was eaten by a Firefox bug. Or maybe a WordPress bug. I blame it on Firefox because it’s written in C++, an utterly awful language that should have died out a decade ago. The essay was nearly complete, and I hit the “Save Draft” button, and was told it had been saved. It wasn’t. It’s gone. Maybe I’ll write it this evening, if I have time, and put it out on Wednesday or Thursday.
On this cold, rainy morning, we move into the grand finale of autumn– early November’s display of brilliant color. Let’s just hope it doesn’t get rained out, weighed down, like so many falls. Then we enter winter, the season of spice, snow, love and intimacy– or sometimes of cold, rain, mist and desolation.
I love October, but the 27th is not one of my favorite days– I associate it with a number of deaths, breakups, numerous manifestations of bad news that have transpired on this day in years past. I realize that it’s all coincidental, and that bad things happen on every day of the year. So do good things. Approximately 1/365.2425 of all good things that have happened have occurred on this day. The same holds of bad things. Anyway, this is just prattle. I’m quickly losing my point. Did I even have one? Not so sure.
I feel raw, poorly slept, and confused. At the same time, I’m optimistic about the future, and grateful to be alive. I keep pushing forward, believing that, as damaged as the world is, it will get better. The collapse of American culture that began in the 1970s, was sped along by the Reaganoid mouth-breathers in the 1980s, and swerved into a nose dive in the 2000s, will end. Either we die utterly and finally, or we turn around. I have reason to believe the latter is more likely.
I’m going to call the nadir. It happened today at 2:30 am, the midpoint of the traditional “hour of death”. Over the past year or two, I’ve sensed a backlash. The destructive forces of casual sex, crass commercialism, female indulgence, anti-masculism, heartless conservatism, conspicuous but insincere liberalism, “game”, sociosexual obsession, combat dating, human self-mortification, et cetera, have begun to wear themselves out. We’re now on the upswing, as of 2:31 this morning. This world of ruin is reeling, badly aching, but ready to be repaired.
Why do I think an upswing is imminent? I observe. I talk to people. I ask prying questions. I enter philosophical debate with random strangers. People and news come to me, as well. An 18-year-old Somali immigrant, a beautiful college sophomore, responded to one of my essays with an account of her experiences. Casual sex seems remarkably less common in her observation of college life than it was in ours. Young people seem to be moving away from it. She only presents one data point, but I have others, and it seems that college is becoming a less crass experience by the year. It’s true that some young people are irreparably damaged, casual-sexed-out emtional zombies, but many others are turning rapidly away from filth.
The shrill cries of those in our generation who have had casual sex, as their lot in life turns sour due to their nonexistent marital value, will be bitter, stark, and petrifying. I’m talking mostly about Sex and the City harpies. They fear competition from foreign, Asian, and black women– this is why they spread nasty rumors about white, American men who date them. But this is just a “trickle” of competition compared to the next wave: a rising cohort of cultured young women, of all races and nationalities, who eschew casual sex and combat dating entirely, rendering useless and unwanted the “never return his calls” wraiths who currently own the urban dating scene.
I can’t see it for the clouds, but my clock tells me the sun has risen. Good morning, world.