Every Sunday morning at 9:28 my iPhone texts me data on the past week's screen time, this past Sunday Apple told me my usage last week down 49% from the previous week. It occurs to me as I type this that I haven't checked my stats at this shitty blog or the other shitty blog (where there's no point checking the stats, though that never stopped me before). I think I've tweeted less. I'm not writing, not painting. Not not writing, not not painting, just not writing or painting. Finished reading but not processing McCarthy's *Passenger," will start its coda today or tomorrow, both the best worse book and worse best book I've read since the last. Read Larry Levis' *Elegy,* Levis a poet many of the poets I do read always recommend that I hadn't read, get why they do even if I, entirely predictably, don't ping. Just looked at my digital tablet, no entires in a month, no poetry in analog tablet in a month, nothing in analog tablet but three short entries noting that I'm not writing or painting. Cannot imagine, after reading the McCarthy, restarting the Fosse, I'll take McCarthy's God over Fosse's Jesus one hundred and one times out of a hundred. I apprehend and process my daily reprogamming in square blocks of duh hovering transparently behind my eyes, they turn yellow when I put in my glaucoma drops. Life in the Duhocene. Have I told you three times we are being reprogrammed? I know, I can't imagine reading Vollmann now either. I never would have guessed how anticlimatic and dull and horrifying the deliberate and permanent breaking of kayfabe would be. Zoomed last week with three friends once miles and years away, now galaxies and eons and lifetimes away. I blame me for all of it. Links collected from the last week below before they're stale
DARKNESS STARTS
Christian Wiman