From the day
Perspective: The Anxious Local · Sound
The radio is blaring Madonna’s “Vogue” from the kitchen, but I can’t stop staring at the paper; that news out of Colombia has me shaking, and even with bread hitting seventy cents a loaf, I’m tempted to hoard more than just flannels and thermals. My youngest brother, that total slacker, is just zoning out to the static of the TV, obsessed with how this new Photoshop 1.0 can warp the truth while the Hubble Telescope is out there floating into a black void. Everything feels fragile today, like the world is being rewritten in this weird HTML code just as we’re all trying to make sense of the noise. I can hear the heavy clatter of his Doc Martens on the linoleum, a rhythmic thumping that competes with the dread of a bank account drained by dollar-sixteen gas and the terrifying pace of this new decade.