I have a pretty nice pre-dinner routine now. I usually get back from uni between 5 and 6, and if I don't have to cook, I make myself a nice cup of tea, which I drink sitting in the dark while listening the radio. Radio 4 has a comedy slot at 6:30pm which is usually good. I then do my shoulder exercises and yoga before dinner. Often, I laze about in bed before yoga and exercises so I end up missing my target of eating dinner at 7:30 pm. but, since it is the end of the day, I don't give myself too much grief about it. it is the post-dinner routine that I want to nail. The intention is to blog and then watch a TV series but I usually end up on Twitter, where I find something that incenses. If I don't hae a blog topic ready, I end up spending ages on Twitter, which cuts into my TV time. First-world-singleton-with-no-kids problems! But, I make no apologies for being so self-absorbed. This has been a difficult year for everyone, and I have coped well. I would pick self-absorption over loneliness and moroseness any day. Maybe I will become so self-absorbed that I might have trouble adjusting to life with a partner in the future. Maybe 10 months ago I would actually spent some time at least thinking about this concern if not worrying about. Now, it seems so trivial.
P.S. A no-Twitter-after-dinner rule would be great for me, so I have just set my Twitter timer to five minutes.
Liberal political commentators publicly gave up on Modi a few years ago. Liberal economists had been more charitable towards him, at least in private. Not any more though. A prominent Hong Kong-based commentator wrote a column in Bloomberg titled 'Why I am losing hope in India'. He was praised by many for his honesty, while a few castigated him for overlooking mass murder. The most honest line in the piece was at the end--'We wanted to trade some of our democratic chaos for a little bit more growth. We ended up with less of both'. Support for dictatorship among the Indian middle classes runs strong. Growing up, I often heard how the solution to India's problems was dictatorship. Of course, the people supporting dictators are the ones whose freedoms and rights would not be threatened under a dictatorship, Or so they think. At least not in the beginning. But it is just a matter of time before the right-wing lunacy in India starts to affect the quality of life of middle-class Indians in urban India. Like when they start banning movies and T shows for "insulting Indian culture". When they realise this regime won't be content on just beating up Muslims and Dalits or strike-happy trade unions. Middle-class contempt for all the groups runs deep. Not just indifference but outright hostility. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I wonder if the caste system is the reason why "othering" comes so easily to Indians.
If BLM can be commodified and consumed, surely nepotism can be too? Another Indian reality show called the Fabulous Lives of Bollywood Wives dropped on Neflix yesterday, featuring four wives of B-list Bollywood celebrities. Two of the husbands come from Bollywood families. Who would have thought the nepots of Bollywood are as vapid, charmless and annoying as we imagined? I would like to think I watched the show to critique it from a ethnographic perspective, but I was just bored. It is true, though, that I do pay attention to the sociological aspects. How do they behave with their servants (impeccably on camera), how do the servants dress, what cars do the stars drive, etc. But, there is not much you can glean from a show which has clearly been curated. You can't be sure if your insight is actually an insight or you have just picked up a curated detail of the show, such as how they are unfailingly polite to their servants on camera. Someone on Twitter picked up another interesting detail aboutthe gender dynamics that I had missed. All the women and daughters were haughty and entitled, while the men came across as unambitious wastrels who were coasting through life on dint of their blood ties. And, just as pointing out racism is considered worse than being racist, there were a number of self-pitying rants against people pointing out nepotism. What remains a mystery is how do B-list stars maintain such lavish lifestyles? Also, one can understand A-listers kids getting breaks, but how do B-listers kids manage it? Without talent, without looks, without charisma.
I was going to title this blog post 'Cold Snap' but discovered that too many old posts have the same title, so I decided to mix it up. Last night, the temperature dropped to IC, and tonight is forecast to be 0C. I knew I would have to be careful with my cold shower this morning, so I made sure I was bone dry afterwards and well wrapped up on my bike ride to uni. I have written before about how my physical ability is noticeably affected below 5C and, sure enough, the ride up the slope was a slog. But, it was a bright sunny day, and there are few things more pleasant than walking about in the winter sunshine, so I went for a long-midday walk with a friend. I had had a reasonably productive morning, so after lunch, and without an ounce of guilt I decided to walk home from uni while it was still bright. Most days, it is pitch dark when I return home, so I decided to mix things up a bit. And, this evening, I did that sublime cozy yoga routine which I only do during winters. I am not sure whether I will go for a run this Sunday because apart from the cold, my knees are giving me a little trouble. But, I have decided not to think about it too much. I am someone who has to force himself to rest when I am feeling inclement, but I don't like forcing myself to do anything at the moment. I will just go with how I feel on the day and in the moment.
Today, I watched a video talk by the guy from Cambridge whose department I am applying too. I am glad I did because I came away inspired. He is Korean, but is nothing like the stereotype of the meek, soft-spoken. he pulled no punches when it came to railing against mainstream economists and even dropped the F-bomb. Passionate, blunt and with zero fucks to give. The kind of person I want to work with and the kind of academic I want to be. I have lived long enough to know how the public persona often doesn't match the person. And, even if it does in this case, he might be unimpressed by my application. But, nevertheless, I am inspired. This job will always be a long shot, but I am inspired to give it my best shot, not mince words or mind my P's and Qs in my motivation letter. It is moments like this that remind me why I am doing what I am doing, which applies to the job hunt as well as my PhD. I am passionate about economics, writing and teaching. Wherever life takes me, whatever I end up doing, I will find a way to pursue at least one of these passions.
The most popular show on Netflix UK at the moment is the Crown, which is based on the Royal Family. Today, I saw a tweet which made me chuckle. It said if you enjoyed watching The Crown, you are a (closet) Tory. As a post-colonial subject, I understand the appeal of slick productions which lionize Empire even if they are critical of individual imperialists. The legacies of Empire are everywhere in India, especially in its institutions. Growing up, one is taught to hate the British, but not the institutions they left behind, which turns the hatred into a not-so0grudging admiration. Which is why a post-colonial subject is instinctively drawn towards displays of British paegantry--dramatized, like the Crown or Downton Abbey, or real, like Royal weddings. I, myself, enjoyed Downton Abbey when I watched it 8-9 years ago. Now, after living in Brexit Britain for more than three years I couldn't bear to watch the show. It perpetuates the myth of Noble Empire to a public that doesn't need convincing. There are the vast swathes of the British population who are proud of Empire. Just this evening, I was telling my mother how the British are among the least religious people in the West. She was surprised given how popular the Royal family is. I replied that you don't need to be religious to be racist. Empire is central to British identity. Not only do I feel alienated from the people who are avid supporters of the Royal family, but also from those who think the Royal Family is an innocuous irrelevance. It is not innocuous and it snot irrelevant. Even if the reigning monarch becomes unpopular or brings himself or herself into disrepute, the idea of Empire will remain popular.
Over the weekend, I read a piece by an FT journalist about copping with Covid lockdown as a single woman who lives by herself. It was searing in its honesty, and I imagine it took a lot of courage to write. Admitting to yourself that you are lonely is difficult enough, much less admitting it to the world. The article echoed my frustration that marriage/coupledom is seen as essential to being happy, across countries and cultures. but, this post is not about loneliness, a topic that I have written about often, and will continue to do so. One line stuck with me, "Just because it is my problem, doesn't make it my fault". Amen. When we find ourselves in an unfavourable situation, we often blame ourselves, which is natural. how long can you blame bad luck? If you are of the over-thinking variety, it is easier to turn the critical gaze on to yourself. Bad luck is a conversation- and thought-stopper. It cannot be dissected without venturing into the realm of the supernatural. You and your purported failings, on the other hand, provide infinite opportunities for introspection, dissection and intellectualization. But, while tempting, this is not an innocuous past-time because self-talk matters. Repeated self-condemnation can corrode your self-esteem. So, it is preferable to blame bad luck and put an end to the internal conversation.
A couple of days ago, I was having serious doubts about applying for a job at Cambridge. I decided that I only stood even half a chance if I wrote a kick-ass personal statement, so I wouldn't apply if I didn't. Today, I started writing the statement, and although it is not complete, I can see it shaping into something that I would be satisfied with. Of course, it is a long shot, but no one takes all the long shots that come their way. Obviously, I found something in this job advertisement that appealed to me, apart from the potential bragging rights. And, in today's yoga session, Adrienne's wise words chimed with my thinking--"All we can do is do our best.. and try to enjoy". There is a singular satisfaction in knowing you did your best, be it for a long shot or a slam dunk.
This afternoon, I spoke to the former professor who encouraged me to do a PhD and put me in touch with my PhD supervisor. He recently retired from the institute in Holland where I did my Master's after teaching there for almost 40 years. When we got to talking about my post-PhD plans, he discouraged me from trying to stay on in academia. His son has started a company to teach economics to business people and he said he would be glad to have me on board. I asked him to keep me posted.
I felt better after talking to him because it made me realise that I have many more options than I thought I do. I also realised that it wouldn't be the end of the world if I am not able to remain in academia , or in the UK for that matter. Especially at this point in history, when the world is going through multiple upheavals. There is no point in clinging to aspirations that were formed in the old world because who knows what opportunities the new world will throw up. This doesn't mean I have given up on UK academia. It just means that I am not fixated with staying here. And, most importantly, it means that I shouldn't worry so much about the future. I have many advantages that many others don't--no partner or dependents, I am in good health. I am footloose and fancyfree, prepared to go wherever my fate takes me.
At the first few crossroads in my life, I just went with the crowd. I picked Science after 10th grade because that is where the smart kids went, and engineering after grade 12th because that is where the smart kids who picked Science went. After engineering, I was at another crossroads, but the path taken by the crowd was blocked to me. It was not an easy decision to choose the road less travelled, but it was the best decision I ever made. The next time I was at a crossroads was in 2013-14 when I was frustrated with my career and with living in Mumbai. There, again, certain roads were closed to me, and out of the remaining paths, I am very happy that I chose the one I did. Crossing that last crossroad was much smoother than the previous time. This crossing will be smooth too.
I have written a lot about Covid rage, but in recent days I have also identified what I can only describe as Covid mood swings. With a span of one day I can go from lethargy to inspiration to dejection to serenity and end the day feeling frustrated. A couple of days ago I had drag myself out of bed. SO you can imagine my surprise when I was feeling full of beans when I cycled in to uni. And, I ended the day feeling flat. As you know, in the past few days. the mere presence of acquaintiances in my life has been grating on me. Today, I felt a stab of irritation when a colleague came in to the PhD office in the afternoon, interrupting my solitary session. But, on a whim, I made some some small talk with him, and my annoyance dispersed just like that. The lesson here is what most spiritual teaching alludes to in one form or the other--thoughts, emotions, mental states are transitory, so there is no point in being overly bothered by them. This too shall pass, so try to be in the moment rather than in the future or the past.
This evening, as I was researching the Cambridge department that I plan to apply to, the confidence drained from me. Most of the people working there have degrees from Cambridge. Those that have unconventional career paths like mine have impressive backstories. Like a PhD in physics from Cambridge followed by a PhD in historical anthropology also from Cmabridge, or twenty years spent working in an investment bank. I, on the other hand, have never been accused of being a high-achiever.
I have had enough episodes of confidence crises to know that it is silly to take decisions on what could eb a momentary fall in confidence. Of course, the Cambridge is a long shot, and to be honest, after going through the background of the people there, I am not too enthusiastic about the job. But, I am in a niche field, and there are very few places where I will feel at home. At some point in time, I will have to blaze some trails if I want to stay in academia. So, I am going to sleep on it instead of abandoning the plan. On Saturday, I am going to try to write a motivation letter. I have enough on my plate, so if the motivation letter is heavy going, I won't be able to give it too much time. And, I know there is no point in turning in a half-hearted application. With my (comparatively) unimpressive background, I don't stand a chance unless my motivation letter makes their jaw drop.
It has really started to feel like there should be another category for people like me in Myer-Briggs called MNFJ--misanthropic-intuitive-feeling-judgemental. Today, I again lost it when one of my annoying officemates came in with a PhD based in another room, and made herself comfortable. It really feels like fate is testing me. Instead of getting respite from the acquaintances in my life whose mere presence gnaws at my nerves, said acquaintances are bringing more people into my life. I am not a complete misanthrope, but I strongly prefer my own company to even harmless company. If I manage to stick around in academia, I can't wait to be senior enough to have my own office. Living with and working with people I am fond of seems like an unattainable luxury. What I would give just to be alone. I have written before about how there are two antidotes to loneliness--finding company or improving the quality of your solitude. Sometimes, neither are an option, and one just has to solider on as best one can. Try not to be too much of a saint or too much of a curmudgeon. And, remember that I haven't permanently become a misanthrope. This is just a stressful time for everyone and the stress bubbles up in surprising ways.
It has been four days since I got news of the job rejection, and I am proud of how I have handled myself. The sting of rejection has worn off. I now feel like a person who has learnt that someone whom they though fancied them but whom they don't fancy, in fact, doesn't fancy them. If I have lost you, let me put it more simply. I thought person B fancies me even though I don't fancy her and I just realised she doesn't fancy me. I realise that someone without a safety net would be worried about paying the bills next year as well as being able to stay on in the UK. Since I have a safety net, I am not worried, and neither do I feel guilty for not being worried. If I am short-listed for the temporary job, I am determined to prove myself and salvage some pride. I feel like I am in the sweet spot where my pride is not hurt enough to get me down, but hurt enough to propel me forward. Not a bad place to be in at all.
I had been girding myself for a busy winter, but this winter is going to be busier than I had imagined. between job applications and scrambling to finish my thesis, I am not going to have much time to worry about catching Covid. In fact, in the past week or so, I have barely thought about the risks of Covid infection. I will be lucky if the pace of work lets up in the spring, but I am not counting on it. Hopefully, my progress will be like a parallel power circuit, where the more resistors you add in parallel, the lesser the effective resistance and the heavier the flow of current. This morning, I was feeling full of beans as I cycled in to uni. but, while I wasn't unproductive, all the beans didn't spill over into my work. I am aiming to finish my core chapters by the end of the year, but with every passing day, it is feeling like an impossible deadline. I have been waiting for that elusive writing spurt, for words to pour forth for the past six months, but progress has been fitful and laborious. Mysterious are the ways of the intellect, so the writing spurt might still come. All I can do is keep showing up, and not worry about my progress when I am not working. When the crisis possibilities are infinite, all one can do is keep the faith in oneself and in the universe.
Yesterday was a day for licking my wounds. Today, I am better so I am going to try to suss out the lessons from this rejection. I knew the job situation is bad in academia and I paid lip-service to how competitive this job application would be. But, for some reason, I didn't believe that I would become part of the precariat. People prone to overconfidence often feel exceptional, so they need knocks to their confidence, from time to time. There is no doubt in my mind that I am intelligent and talented. But, I am by no means exceptional. Even if I have potential to be exceptional, my achievements as they stand are far from exceptional. Good, but not exceptional, like many if not most people in academia.
This does not mean I should start feeling stressed about my job situation. It simply means that I will have to hustle to find a job, and hustle to finish my PhD soon. Hopefully, this rejection will be the kick up my arse that I need to speed up writing my PhD thesis.
Last evening, I learned that I had not been shortlisted for the UWE Economics job. It didn't come as a total surprise because I had a gut feeling it would happen. I thought I would be gutted if it happened, but the injury is mostly to my ego. I wasn't particularly enthused about the job. At the time, I put my lack fo enthusiasm down to Covid and PhD fatigue, but maybe there is more to it than that. The idea of a change fo scene sounds good. I like Bristol as a city but more as a physical place. I haven't really built a life here, and once a close friend moves away, my social life will become almost non-existent.
But, coming back to the job, I was confident that I would at least be short-listed, if nothing else as a favour to my supervisor. Maybe I underestimated her pull in the department or how much she would be willing to pull for me.
Two day ago, I wrote about how blessings often come disguised as curses. I have also written before about how sometimes life looks worse than it feels. This is one of those moments--it doesn't feel bad, but when I think about my situation dispassionately--visa constraints, brutal job market--it gets me down. As though my mind is telling me that I should be more worried, I should fret a bit. But I am resolute that I am not going to trick myself into feeling worse than I do. Yes, I am prone to overconfidence, so I should listen to the people around me when they think I am painting too rosy a picture of my fortunes. But I can be pro-active in my job search without being desperate. For now, I am only going to apply to jobs I am keen on. Maybe there will come a time when I have to spray my CV indiscriminately in the hoe that it sticks somewhere, but I will cross that bridge when I reach it.
As I have written before, I often choose my yoga practices based on my state of mind on that day. I don't consider yoga to be an antidote to the problems in my life. Or at least, I try not to look at it as an anti-dote. It is just a practice that raises self-awareness, soothes my nerves and chimes with my reflective nature. Which is why I do yoga daily, irrespective of whether I am in a good mood or bad. Doing yoga only when you feel like you need it is pointless because it is not an anti-dote but a practice.
Today, I decided to opt for a Trust practice. I still haven't been told whether I have been short-listed for the job, and I heard on the grapevine that 174 people have applied. I fancy my chances with this job, and if I don't get it I will be gutted. If I am not even short-listed, it will be a jolt to my confidence. So, its no surprise that I have been a bit on the edge for the past few days. Today, I learnt that the university has advertised for another fixed-term job, which eased the pressure somewhat. Even if I fail to bag a permanent job, I can try for the temporary one. Not ideal, but at least I will have somewhere to land after I finish my PhD. The Trust practice also helped calm me down. Trust is not just trusting that the outcome you desire will materialize. It is much broader and deeper than that. It is acknowledging that the universe works in mysterious ways, and that blessings sometimes come disguised as curses. Trust is about trusting yourself and trusting the universe. Trusting that you will cope with whatever comes your way, and trusting that the universe is not against you. Doing your best and leaving the rest to fate.
Whenever I am going through a stressful I am always curious which stress response my body will pick. This time it is the uneasy-but-not-upset tummy. Nothing more to report than bloating and gas. The past few weeks have been a little rough. To add to my perennial stress about my PhD, I am also nervous about my job application and not catching Covid and frustrated by my shoulder, which has given me trouble for most of 2020. In addition, life hasn't indulged my misanthropy in the past few weeks--there are more people inhabiting my existence than I had hoped for during lockdown. It is what it is, and there is nothing I can do apart from leaning harder on my two pillars--yoga and writing. I have also discovered a new pillar--walking while listening to music. Walking by itself isn't a winner for me, unless my surroundings are enchanting. But walking while listening to music in pleasant surroundings can be quite relaxing. I am doing my best to try and reduce my screen time because I invariably end up on news websites or Twitter. So, apart from walking, I have a cup of ginger tea in the evenings while listening to the radio in the dark. There are so many small things one can do to make life a little more pleasant. I am perpetually on the lookout for such things now.
In the past few days, I haven't been coping well with the acquaintances that inhabit my daily life. To be clear, they have a right to the space they share with me as much as I do. But, I just wish they followed the lead of other people who seem to have temporarily relinquished that right. In office, it is just two girls who come in every day along with me. They give me no trouble, but their mere presence grates on my nerves. I feel like my irritability threshold is so low that I am in a permanent state of being miffed. If its not their habits, its their mere presence. On the home front, I was hoping that two of my housemates would be away during the lockdown. Alas, it was not to be. And, my new housemate has a heavy houseprint like me--she cooks a lot (like I do), but also has some mildly annoying habits. So, I have been feeling frustrated both on the home and the office front. When I write down the reasons for my frustration, it feels ridiculous. What else is there to do but laugh at my ow idiosyncrasies? Beat myself over it or feel even more alienated from the world? Nah, I am not that person any more. I will just laugh at myself.
This weekend I did what one is supposed to do on weekends: I slacked off completely. The creature of habit that I am I have a routine for weekends too. This weekend, I made a conscious effort to break the routine because I felt like I needed it. I had hit a rut with both my thesis writing and my job application, and I suddenly stated feeling colder than usual a couple of days ago. Since a few years ago, whenever My body experiences (mild) unusual symptoms I attribute it to mental stress or anxiety. So, this weekend, I decided to break away from my routine. So, I barely did any yoga, didn't blog yesterday and didn't go for my Sunday morning hill run. People like me, who are too self-disciplined, need to force themselves to slack off from time to time. When I find some activity which is calming or relaxing, I immediately include it in my routine, and push myself to do it everyday. Self-discipline is great, but at times it can make life difficult. It keeps you on track, but staying on the track all the time can be stressful. One needs to veer off from time to time. I suppose one needs to figure out one's type--if you are the type who pushes too hard, you should watch out for signs of exhaustion, and if you are the opposite you should be careful about not slacking off too much.
The other day I read a post on Twitter about how food in Britain is devoid of joy, community and closeness, which set me thinking about my own relationship with food. Like most Indian men, I didn;'t learn to cook until I was forced to. Looking back at my year living in Holland, I am amazed how I managed to survive, given how badly I Cooked. I had no clue how to cook using spices, much less Indian spices. I remember my favourite dish was rice cooked with chicken and vegetables flavoured with only pepper. I cooked the dish a few months ago, and was again amazed that I used to so fond of it at one point. In Holland, I ate out quite a lot, which is now wonder as I was a bad cook. It was only after I moved to England that my cooking skills improved, and with that came a change in my relationship with food. I always sued to think that while I had a healthy appetite, I always had low standards. I would make a terrible food critic, because I am so easily pleased that I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between good and great food. But, as my cooking skills have improved, I have become more discerning when it comes to food. I honestly prefer cookingmy own food to eating out, not because I am a great cook but because food standards and portion sizes in England are quite bad. I also put more care in planning my meals, consulting people for new recipes and searching for new ingredients. Many good cooks make very basic meals when they are cooking for themselves, reserving fancy meals for when they have company. My meals are not super-elaborate but they are as elaborate as they would be if I was cooking for company.
I am not a foodie by any means, but I enjoy cooking.
Last night, I had a long talk with an Indian friend considering quitting the US and going back home. The last time we spoke, which was a couple of months ago, I was trying to convince him not to because India is being ruled by a right-wing ghoul is smarter and more cruel than Trump. I was hoping a resounding defeat for Trump would make him change his mind, but even a Biden presidency wouldn't be cause for celebration. The difference between a Trump an a Biden presidency was the difference between being knee-deep and neck-deep in shit, as someone on Twitter said. So, given that even if Biden manages to squeeze past Trump, he will be in a very weak position. A weak moderate is as scary as a right-winger because the former fears the right and wants to inspire fear in the left.
When I spoke to my friend yesterday, I made no effort to convince him to stay in the US. Where one choses to live, barring practical compulsions, is an emotional rather than a rational decision. The next few days, weeks, months, years are going to be very difficult, and most of us are going to use our hearts more than our heads to make decisions. Which is as it should be. How do you make reasoned decisions when standing on shifting sands and below a clouded horizon? The only thing certain is the world is going to look very different five years from now. How do you plan for a world that you haven't the foggiest idea about?
I have experienced bouts of Covid rage infrequently over the past few months, but none as strong as today's. It started with being ticked off by marshals and shop assistants for gonig the wrong way on the stairs and not sanitizing my hands. I have always felt people who are rude to shop assistants and minders are twats, but this morning I felt the anger rise in me like a volcano. What was worse is the lower the status of the person confronting me, the angrier I felt. I managed to quell my anger, even though I was a split second away from saying something snippy. When there is a power differential, it is so easy to take out your anger on someone less powerful. And so unfair.
But, my rage really bubbled over in the afternoon. It took me by surprise, because I had just returned from a very relaxing walk in the woods near uni. I came back to find my colleague's housemate comfortably ensconced in our shared office. My colleague had introduced him when they were sitting outside. I had wondered at the time what he was doing there, but hadn't given it much thought. I was sething with rage for some reason, so much so that I quickly realised I wasn't going to get any work done and stormed out of the office. I later texted my colleague checking that he was only going to be there today. She relied in the affirmative. I don't know if that was the truth or whether she decided to rescind her invitation to her housemate because I had expressed my displeasure. I don't care. I know I over-reacted and that I can be very territorial about my space. yes, my colleague was wrong to invite him without even checking with me. In normal circumstances, I wouldn't have minded but Covid is great cover for my misanthropy.
I am glas I messaged my colleague and clarified the matter instead of waiting to see if the housemate would turn up tomorrow. Hair-trigger reactions are generally bad, but not all anger should be quelled. Anger sometimes spurs necessary and justified action which in normal circumstances one would have been too ashamed to carry out. It is best if angers spurs measured action. but seeing Covid rage for it is is itself progress. I can watch out for it in coming weeks and months, reducing the chances of me doing something stupid in anger.
The fate of the world hangs in the balance tonight. If the ghoul comes back to power, it will steady the regimes of right-wing fascists, which are currently under attack from the pandemic. It has always amazed me how much fascists borrow from each other 's playbook. If Trump comes back, a no-deal Brexit is likely, apart from all the other horrors this winter will bring. The fate of the world rests in the hands of one of two senile white men. As the atmosphere leading up to the polls was very febrile, many people epect violence whatever the outcome. There are too many angry white men walking around with military-grade weapons. And, Trump might refuse to accept the results if he loses. America is an empire in decline but there is a huge difference between an empire bursting into flames and one smouldering from the edges and slowly coming apart. If Trump comes back, a generation will lose faith in electoral democracy as an agent for progressive change. Mobiliazing on the streets, and enduring whatever violence that entails, will eb the only option.
The "Let It Be" post-it notes above my desk at home and at work are going to be doing a lot of heavy lifting during the pandemic. Yesterday, I got the feeling that my bumptious randy housemate was preparing to spend the lockdown with her parents. Today, she had a bloke over, and they seem very lovey-dovey. It struck me that she might not be planning to go home to her parents if it means being separated from this bloke. Then it struck me that this bloke might spend more time at our house if both he and my housemate have been furloughed over lockdown. I spent an hour or so contemplating this possibility with increasing moroseness. My housemate is loud--she makes her presence felt when she is in the house and awake, and most of her guests seem to be loud too. I start feeling irritable if there are too many people in the house, especially if a guest takes up the noise quota of two people. Finally, it struck me that we were going to be under lockdown and having people over was barred. I immediately made up my mind that I would unleash hell if he kept visiting after the start of lockdown. After all, "Let it be" is not a panacea, at least not for most people as we are not saints. Sometimes, "Raise Hell!" is the solution. Knowing when to let it be and when to raise hell is, of course, the million-dollar quesion.
