The World's Going To Hell And I Feel Fine

The bizarre disjuncture between the external world and my own life has if anything widened over the last month or so. The last couple of weeks are a particularly good example. Right now I'm on vacation, with an amazing freedom to do pretty much whatever I feel like without feeling guilty about it. I took the opportunity yesterday to work on my novel, reveling in the luxury to spend three hours focused on writing. Back home, I've been helping a candidate for local office and having a ball. It's an uphill race, but our opponents are tremendous goobers.

And then I look at the news and realize that our country's political and cultural life is utterly corrupted, and am very, very glad that I decided not to have children. It's gotten so bad that I've started reading Seneca, who has excellent things to say about preserving one's emotional equilibrium in times of crisis.