increasingly transfixed by the mythopoetic inversional aspect of the pandemic. aside from forcing isolation onto a culture suffering from isolation its also turned our “access to instant infinite information” into an ouroboros because that information doesnt provide any clarity
so now the other hallmark of our time (aside from personal isolation that has now been literally manifested) has been dethroned as we’re all forced back into two week timeframes + waiting on developments and a cohesive narrative to emerge for weeks like some pre internet caveman
used to being able to tap in and see whats going on in every city and who won this battle in syria and where instantly but now none of that information means anything. this country reported X new cases today. okay. how much was backlog though. do they even know. tells me nothing
the actual definition of postmodern is skepticism of meta narratives but now theres just no meta narrative. does anyone actually feel like they know whats happening. no one knows, yet. its like a pre internet fog of war came out of the past to push the earth back into analog life
thinking about omens. etruscan men digging up a head on a hillside and that deciding the fate of their civilization. haruspicy. reaching right into a lamb and trying to read how things would go in the entrails. biggest vulture i ever saw in my life flew right over my house today
the etruscan diviners and the head is a real story by the way 
