Despite a shitload of shit happening all over on many levels and subjects, I doomscrolled on the InterWebs until my fingers wept and concluded the nowadays is an enigma wrapped in a riddle painted by a mystery shoved down a rabbit hole — am I clear?

Sad and my fault, i.e., mea culpa to it all:

You sit around gettin’ older
There’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me
I’ll shake this world off my shoulders
Come on, baby, this laugh’s on me

An anthem for the time — The Running Mates cover of 4 Non Blondes “What’s Up” and a destination (original here):

And so I cry sometimes when I’m lying in bed
Just to get it all out what’s in my head
And I, I am feeling a little peculiar

And so I wake in the morning and I step outside
And I take a deep breath and I get real high
And I scream from the top of my lungs
“What’s going on?”

Yeah exactly.
Yet once again here we are…

(Illustration out front: New Yorker cartoon by Bruce Eric Kaplan, found here)