A Journal of the Plague Year Week 13

Sunday 7th June 2020

A got sick today, feeling nauseous after perhaps eating too much of a Greek pastry. Greek sweets are the kind of sugar seizure you could call a unique and unforgettable experience, and that really should come with health warnings. Think pastry made out of sugar butter (sheets, strands), add a nutty or chocolate filling, then mix in lots and lots of extra sugar in case you miss it. Bake. Then marinate and saturate in honey. Oh then dust everything with lots of sugar. This also applies to cakes, that will ooze sweet goo when you cut. If you’re feeling naughty add cream and icing why not.

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A had the kind of filo filled with a molten chocolate so sweet I can taste it now just by thinking about it, and the glands in my face giving off an acute, sour feeling in my neck, and beginning to sweat.

I went out to stock up on chamomile tea and ginger (good for nausea), manuka honey and assorted soups, from turmeric fish to cream of mushroom. Gave him a paracetamol and let him doze it off. When I revisited a few hours later he was in a fever, and the alarm bells ringing in my head. Looking up what to do, who to contact, what the symptoms were. He had an obviously high temperature but no headache, blue tinge or cough, smell and taste fine, thus negating reason to call. The fever and aches apparently is not enough.

Then in typical A fashion he woke up, said he was feeling much better and has been ever since. The damn Mediterranean diet right there, someone who’s sick maybe once a  decade, and who got very worried last year when his skin started ‘changing colour’ (his first bruise). If he had C-19 it’s been a passing fad.

For all the monstrosities of its desserts, it’s balanced out by the traditional rest of the plate.

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The weather’s whipping up a storm, down to only 8C at night and barely in double digits in the morning. Fucking Great British Summertime. The rain is freezing, the clouds elephant grey and just as rough. The ‘flick’ for the night was as equally unprepossessing, a Greek arthouse film on the staging of Aristophanes’ seminal ‘Birds’ play (seriously, how more obscure can you get), titled Birds Or How to Be One.

Shot on location in Iceland, Athens, NYC, the Caribbean and Canada it got funding from the Onassis Foundation and made full use of it too, with monologues and terse people staring into the lens, occasionally screeching bird noises to busy streets. Yep, it does what it says on the tin.

One thing’s for sure I’m gonna learn how to walk on my hands now -it’s a big scene in this, for no reason I can fathom. Probably signifying the corpus of Man and our existentialist take on dolphin sex, maybe.

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I dropped off several times, but with one eye open, literally. The one that could be seen by A, who was rapt, the other covered by an arm at rest. He loved it. They say art is good for the spirit, notably for men, as studied by Norwegian scientist Koenraad Cuypers, who found those unable to exercise but who got involved in cultural activities helped with their anxiety.

91% of those filling in questionnaires on their lifestyles, who engaged in 4 or more activities -from seeing art to visiting museums weekly, felt satisfied with their lives, and were 14% healthier. Women were far more improved if they were creating the art rather than consuming it, from singing to dancing to playing musical instruments. They’re not sure why this gender gap is so, perhaps the way our brains are differently wired. I think I tend more to the female preferences. Writing’s a drag sometimes but a saviour too.

Some work to finish off, by Austrian photographer Stefan Draschan, who spends an eternity waiting for the right moment, like a shadowy papp in the salons of Vienna, Berlin and Paris. I imagine he dresses up like a pillar or one of those living statues in a plaza. Enjoy:

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Some of these you literally couldn’t make up:

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There ya go, me enjoying you enjoying them enjoying art.

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A Journal of the Plague Year Day 79

Saturday 6th June 2020

For the last week the protests round the world have become increasingly large despite the lockdowns, and proliferating.

London

It started 2 days after George Floyd’s death – a small march through Peckham by an association affiliated to BLM (though BLM UK discouraged participation due to social distancing and C-19 risk). There was also a small gaggle of people outside the US Embassy.

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The next day it grew immeasurably as the weekend hit, with a march from Trafalgar Square crossing the river into Vauxhall for the embassy.

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The next day more of the same, with a few hundred in Hyde Park too. Scuffles broke out in Downing St, the Prime Minister’s residence. It had all come midway through his leadership scandal.

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Wednesday’s Hyde Park gathering, organised by the splinter group #BLMLondon was the biggest yet.

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John Boyega made emotional speeches outside Parliament and in the park. “Black men: it starts with you..”

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When police took a knee outside Downing Street, the crowd roared their approval

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Arrests were made in scuffles in the evening there, after end of the march.

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The protests have continued throughout the week, and now larger than in American cities:

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Every day making their way to the barricaded US Embassy.

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A policewoman was injured after a line of mounted police charged the crowd in Whitehall (she hit a traffic light).

Across the country the same has been happening.

Manchester

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Birmingham

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Glasgow

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Edinburgh

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Cardiff (one of the world’s first protests)

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Leeds

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Sheffield

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Belfast

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Bristolians tore down a statue of a notorious art patron, responsible for 80,000 trafficked into slavery. Taken from the city square and dumped into a local canal:

Even in small cities and towns, from Oxford to Oxon.

This is Shrewsbury

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In Watford heavyweight boxing champ Anthony Joshua was spotted in his local rally

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Cities across the nation lit their public buildings in purple as a sign of solidarity to the cause:

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Including police stations

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In 1993 a Public Enquiry found the UK police force ‘institutionally racist’ after they botched the investigation of the murder of Stephen Lawrence (a racist killing by a far right gang), which allowed his killers to walk free.

The Lammy Enquiry in 2017 found Black people are a whopping 9x more likely to be stopped and searched, 3x more likely to be arrested and 5x more likely to have force used against them. The Angiolini Review on the police in the same year found:

“The stereotyping of young black men as ‘dangerous, violent and volatile’ is a longstanding trope that is ingrained in the mind of many in our society. “

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There were no less than 200 demonstrations across the country in the weekend alone.

Other cities round the world have been doing the same.

Amsterdam

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Berlin (also one of the first cities to protest after Minneapolis)

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Frankfurt

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Cologne

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Tokyo was the first city to march, the very morning after Floyd’s death

APTOPIX America Protests Global Japan

Osaka

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Istanbul

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Tel Aviv

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Even in Iran makeshift street shrines have appeared and university students have rallied on their campuses.

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Cape Town

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Seoul

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Athens

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Lausanne, Switzerland

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Brasilia

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Krakow, Poland

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Warsaw

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Prague

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Rome

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Milan

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Turin

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Madrid

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Barcelona

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Paris, predictably, is burning.

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Copenhagen

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Stockholm

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Oslo

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Auckland, New Zealand

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In Australia BLM has particular resonance with a history of police brutality against the Aboriginal and Torres Strait population

Sydney

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Melbourne

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Brisbane

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Even in Khartoum, Sudan

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And the tiny Pacific island of Saipan in the Northern Marianas

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After people joined a one woman protest

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A one man protest in Wellington, Florida too.

He had the police called on him:

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A Journal of the Plague Year Day 78

Saturday 5th June 2020

Today was A‘s birthday, who decided a low key affair was in order. We’d originally mused on having a picnic with nearby friends the date kept changing due to their house-hunting plans and the rainy weather, the sunniest month in UK history now banished by the onset of winter again. The heating’s on.

The other day we’d gotten out with J to sit in the garden as his mate was visiting from Bulgaria, back in London after 6 months lockdown by the Black Sea. It was nice to reconnect with socialising and alcohol again, though the lure of the warm flat was terrible and keeping socially distant difficult on a bench (we ended up by the pond). Though these best friends hadn’t seen each other in so long they weren’t able to go indoors, and had to wait out the cold interminably, wilting from park to estate and back again before it became too much.

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For A’s day we went and splurged out on the forbidden fruit that is gelato in two varieties + tiramisu, and a chocolate baklava sheet thing from Greece to remind him of home. Midweek shopping for the two of us doubled to £50. Then it was lying in bed, cooking, scrolling, watching the box and the occasional chasing of the fucker round the room as he’s constantly teasing. Did some documentaries, Greek plays (the Birds by Aristophanes) that kinda thing, interspersed with the latest Jurassic World insert from Netflix. Was actually a thoroughly enjoyed day, despite our plans having fallen through. I think serendipity is occasionally on our side.

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It’s a welcome change from a tough week of grey skies and greyer walls, where turbulence simmers. They say lockdown will be over in a couple of weeks, but the infections are spiking again. The crowds this last month from the sunny weather, across the parks, beaches and beauty spots have contributed as have the protests. A part of me really wants to just get it over and done with, get sick, see what happens. But is the risk worth it to be able to mingle again?

The protests still carry on distant across the horizons, somewhere in Central London is where I’d very much want to be. Imagine the size of the crowds if not for lockdown, imagine the even greater impact of those voices in unison. I am having a break from politicking for the day, having ignited then consumed the last week, constantly playing in the background of domestic dramas, when every time you open the screen you see ugliness streaming back.

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Animal documentaries I think is in order, if I can find one where the narrator isn’t righteous and the camera interspersed with web graphics and techno music, and every scene must have a cheesy storyline.

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I wish I worked where I want to work, with animals, with kids (the small ones who can barely speak, not the knifey ones). Saw a man with the T-shirt emblazoned ‘Do What Makes You Feel Alive’ (perhaps not the best to take round prison). The call to arms in big, bold lettering, hammered into a neat circle on his chest. He was, at the time, giving a webinar on the difference between waterfall and agile styles of project management.

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A Journal of the Plague Year Day 77

Thursday 4th June 2020

I think humans are fundamentally, intrinsically flawed with biases. We project, we create patterns, we try and predict, we assume -inbuilt as an animal survival instinct. A lot of our ‘logic’ stems not from personal experience but media, sometimes imprinted from years ago or as a child, from beauty ideals to childhood divisions to stranger danger, to whatever we deemed worthy of bullying in the schoolyard (notably difference, that invited destruction). All this then backed up as adults with a complicit ‘free’ media, peddling the correlation with crime levels (rather than income), alien customs, “shithole countries”, and continuously pushing the concept of The Other. This applied a lot to the upbringing of older generations than the current Millennial flock.

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In the UK race doesn’t have as long or as imbedded a painful history as the US (or perhaps we just hide it under the rug more *cough* Empire /*cough*), which helps, but it is very much about the longstanding, subtle class war regardless of race. For example Asians earn up to 30% more than White natives on one strata, 15% less on another, Blacks only 8% less overall but dependent on the latest migration, whilst in some strata/ years they earn more -so all in all there’s less of a distinction if you’re trying to base a notion on race. Still a problem – a national scandal when the government report came out in 2018 -but nowhere near the levels abroad.

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In the US for example it’s far more pronounced. Blacks and non-White Latinos average 30-40% less than Whites even after 400 years.

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Thus I feel in the US race more correlates with class over there, in a vicious cycle that’s entrenched -a lot of the racism against Black Americans persay can be construed in a brute way to how UK people perceive the working class, where we have far more of a prejudice problem than Stateside (for example the popularity of the term ‘chav’ -Council Housed And Violent). In short the class war in the UK and the racial war in the US are similar to an extent, but directed at different groups of people. In the UK, one of the few things you’re still allowed to bully and legally be chauvinist to is accent, the strength of which can easily denote one’s class.

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This is not to compare the struggle of Black people in the US as the class struggle here, that would be offensive to both sides and entirely missing the nuances, not to mention obvious differences in history, attitude, scale and victims (for example no one’s still going to shoot a working class man for jogging in their middle income neighbourhood, or have political parties dedicated to kicking out the working poor from the country, with millions voting for them). But it does have certain parallels, notably in how so-called respectable people judge, while claiming themselves neutral, that helps perpetuate the problem.

Going back to our errant human natures, stupified by emotion, everyone knows the 70-20-10% rule. -That 70% of our impression of someone is based on their looks, 20% on the sound of their voice and 10% on what they actually say. Yet I see it time and time again my peers and myself acting upon this prejudice, from my fellow interviewers to the way our staff deal with customers, to the way I process the same request from two people.

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I’ve caught myself being prejudiced this way -one person we picked as outstanding I realised later was because her work was not actually that brilliant, but that her interaction and delivery was always with a winning, slightly posh accent.

A ‘problematic’ working class employee who says “nohh, don’t like it innit” is saying the same thing as the posh, ‘astute’ one politely affirming “I’m sorry, I do not like it. That’s just the way it is for me.” Even though the first reply is actually opening itself to negotiation and the second one isn’t, it sounds worse.

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My workplace, a worldly instutution that shall not be (overtly) named, still has a racial bias on top, I’ve rarely seen elsewhere in the city. In London, non-White ethnic minorities -especially skewed to our youthful age range -should account for 40% at the very least. They are also more liable to have degrees and more liable to be in our scientific fields. However we still have the ‘old guard’ to dispel, and something I’ve had to talk to the top end about as a representative. That the institution neatly scores itself satisfactorily on the diversity spectrum (although positive action was made illegal in the UK -as it’s just another form of discrimination, diversity needs to be measured by law) but on any obvious diversity it falls flat. That the very lowest rungs of the payscales -the cleaners and security guards -are overtly diverse with people of colour forming their large majority, while those customer-facing it’s less than a quarter, albeit slightly better at showing London’s 40% mix. However, once you hit any rung higher it falls to 15% or lower. Higher management is almost blanketly White, with maybe one or two exceptions.

Although we are a staunchly left wing and feelsy organisation, it’s obvious the subconscious bias still applies, and we’re still dealing with the neolithic. It permeates on every level.

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The way our media, even written by left wingers, push through assumptions and cater to audience safety (read: institutionalised bias) helps make it a constant peddler of categorising people, and reinforcing the status quo. Heroes are more successful if they’re male White saviour memes, not dumpy frontline nurses. We get less annoyed or bored, more invested and sympathetic looking at beautiful faces when it’s them doing the talking. We like our preconceptions not to be challenged but set ever further into stone. Iran has to look like how we imagine Iran to look, Black people have to speak ghetto regardless of their class, people outside our own circle of comfort must be different, and thus need to ring it true at all times -preferably on town crier levels of advertisement.

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Some people argue that in an individualistic society we should only be concerned about our own paths regardless of the rest, after laying the white picket fence around the yard in an age of capitalism. That the prejudice suffered by Black people in America is for them to sort out. Sure but then look at the same prejudice in differing angles, let’s randomly say the glass ceiling for women, a full half of the world, who score the same as men in IQ and actually get higher grades, but suffer -at the very best levels ever -still 18% difference in pay, for no good reason. The BBC, so-called champion for equality despite appointing 17 male White Director Generals in a row, was recently exposed when the female stars and presenters colluded to discover they were being paid significantly less than their male counterparts, despite pulling in higher viewerships or sharing the same job.

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Look at the bamboo ceiling (I myself endure); East Asians have the highest average grades, IQ scores and qualifications, which gift them into higher entry levels once in the job market. This has resulted in the highest average pay too, more so than any other strata, and the moniker of a ‘model minority’. So far, so rosy.

However look closer, and East Asians are also the least likely to be promoted into any form of management, less so than Blacks or Latinos, more than doubly less so than Whites. They have to send out 70% more applications to get call back if their name is amended to show they’re East Asian. They are nearing 6% of the US population yet only 0.3% of corporate office populations. And in fields where they are overtly represented, they are still heavily under-represented in management. For example, even if 22% of scientists are East Asian, only 5% are lab directors.

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And all that is just talking about jobs, just one uncontrollable aspect that affects our lives. Look at everything else, the threat assessment every woman has to take when meeting any man, the fact the majority of women have been harassed or assaulted, that one quarter of women in this country will suffer domestic abuse at some stage, and that the same overlapping amount sexual abuse and rape. That up to 97% of rapes here may be ending in no conviction, due to low reportage and one of the few systems that favour the criminal. The fact East Asians don’t just suffer the institutional prejudice but the highest rates of violence upon the person thanks to hate crime. All this goes largely unreported, we look at people and think everything is all right. Ask your female friends in confidence what their experience of sexual harrasment, assault or violence has been, and see how many have had none.

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It’s not that society should be riven with fear, and that everyone is sexist and racist, but that even subconscious bias still damages horrendously on top of that shit, that it disregards individual performance. I agree with the law that positive discrimination is still another form of discrimination, and directly undermines the cause also. But I think the best way forward is educating employers and general populace alike as to what to watch out for in themselves -and not just the one-off training module, but instilling a culture based on psychology.

The riots in the US, and protests in solidarity around the world are a sign a generation is fed up of it, we are not going to stand for it any longer. But to take a knee, a push, a shove, a punch, a strike, a rubber bullet. They say the pen is mightier than the sword, but look at how little we’ve progressed, notably when the quills on both sides of the war are still helping to write the same script  -has it been mightier, after all these years? For too long silence is violence, and the only way to enact change appears is to show it in numbers, in taking to the streets.

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A Journal of the Plague Year Day 75

Tuesday 2nd June 2020

My birthday in lockdown, secreted from all, except my friends K and C who sent sweet cards (flamingo on a palm-print armchair) and family who Zoomed for 3hrs. Until summonsed out by J who knew, who went out and bought prosecco and cider and Maltesers. Drunk within minutes, watching the Exorcist, then more existentialism as Moana rattled on in the background.

We arrived to the conclusion, head pounding, 2am, that contentment eludes all. No matter how rich, how powerful, how beautiful, society deems us to always battle for more. And when we reach our El Dorado if at all, it’s empty after. That we are living the lifestyles of the millionaires of old -warm, safe, clean, educated, travelled, clothed, fed and cushioned, unriddled with smallpox or gonorrhoea or blasphemy or starvation or state control or war or workhouse, yet still unworthy.

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Think of those at the top: the famous, indentured without the freedom to go out or speak openly, constantly battling the downward pull of nature, screentime and Hollywood churn. The billionaires working 15 hours a day, politicking into the night with a cold sandwich from the fridge, while their pampered hubbies, surrounded with everything you could ever want, realise in the empty foil that the absence of struggle, of hope, is despair. The aristocrats and politicians playing out their tenures gladiatorially, rife with intrigue, betrayal and trying to keep the beast of control always fed. Always the want, the yearning.

That that fairy tale princess operated a dictatorship. Where no one ever lives happily ever after. And our horizons are never clear. When was the last time anyone ever saw the sunrise from a flattened plane?

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Yuval Noah Harari points out that in our hunter gatherer days we were experts in our field, with bigger brains and marathon-runner bods showing everything our biology, evolution, psychology and DNA had been attuned to for millions of years. That we worked 35 hr weeks rather than the 45 hrs today (not including commuting), or the 80 hr ones for the vast majority of humans that are the Developing world. That you set out at 8am to forage till lunch, then played it out till dinner time, launching hunts one day out of three. That you were rarely alone or felt lonely, sharing families and thus resources. You didn’t have plates to wash up, laundry to iron or bills to pay, before the great scam that was agriculture, multiple babies, famines, ownership, edicts, wars, cities, riots, obesity.

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The meaning of life is not happiness, which is a creature we scare and chase, but will approach when you’re not looking. Rather it’s about just getting through it with less hassle according to A. To me, it’s about the one certifiable truth: that we will end one day, in the best possible way. And love. And never feeling embarrassed -a detail added by my cousin.

Praise ye, praise ye. To the perpetual struggle. Life, the way they’ve sold it from storybooks to screentime, is a scam. As a great Greek philosopher, and millennia later, a war journalist once said, the journey is the destination.

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