From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Tactile
My fingers are raw from picking at the sharp plastic edges of this Rubik’s Cube, a colorful little puzzle that feels far more predictable than the news on the radio. My polyester shirt clings to me with a static charge, sweating through the underarms as I worry how I’ll afford bread at fifty cents a loaf if things keep sliding. It’s truly awesome how fast the world is changing, but with Reagan winning the presidency and the Cold War anxiety ratcheting up, I just feel brittle. I pull my stiff denim jacket tighter against the autumn chill, wishing I could just fax away my fears of nuclear war as easily as these new machines send a page.