"Contrary to what we would like to believe, there is no such thing as a structureless group."

What a week.

What a year, really.

What a time to be alive!

If you think about it, we had two whole years wherein almost every human being on the planet was sharing a common experience. Two years of social and societal interruption where mass-communication made possible the steady and near-complete connection of the majority of the globe, and would have provided, had we thought to make any steps in that direction, an absolutely unprecedented opportunity for large-scale change in just about any category you can name.

We could have done anything. Having the collective attention of a room is difficult. Getting the collective attention of a country takes something like a couple of planes destroying two occupied skyscrapers in the largest civilian metropolis available, or Russia invading. Getting the world's attention, and holding it for longer than an instant is, barring alien invasion, almost impossible.

And we had two years to really come together and discuss the world we wanted to emerge from our chrysalis of fear to find waiting for us. To examine the structures that rule and restrict and make adjustments or rubble of them. To look at ourselves, and our effects on others, and reframe our wants and desires around collective good instead of personal greed, toward industry and away from sloth, to edify and organise and prepare for a new and bright future humbled and grateful for the opportunity to gain perspective and wisdom despite the circumstances of the gift.



I remember they had to get traffic wardens for Govanhill because there was such an insane queue when McDonald's reopened.

That's actually my strongest memory from the entire experience.

And look at us now. Look how far we have come. You could turn on your laptop and livestream the war in Europe but that would take precious electricity you can't spare lest you fall behind in your obscenely inflated utility bills, and you wouldn't want to lose the flat you share with five other people because Winter is coming and even though you can't afford to heat the place you know that rent has tripled since you moved in so you can't exactly afford to get a new flat either, which is something you worry about while waiting for an underpaid migrant to come deliver your dinner on his bike in the pissing rain for what amounts to slave wages (but at least he will appreciate the Black Lives Matter poster in your window, knowing that you care about his welfare). Meanwhile, you can hop on that phone made by child labour in a country you couldn't find on a map (like the Ukraine, or Palestine, despite your deep concern for them) and send shitty DMs to local small businesses but you keep getting interrupted by news alerts summarising what the IMF has to say about our unelected leaders' complete farce of a budget that might as well just be a wholesale transfer of the bank account contents of the lowest 10% of the country to the highest, so instead you hop on the Chinese spyware platform that every world government in the West has specifically tried to ban because of its ridiculous and blatant data-mining because "it's fun", which of course makes Meta very angry because they had the market cornered on stealing your very private information and desires but forgot to factor in that humans require "fun" in their headlong race into a nuclear winter where personalised advertising nanobots are intravenously injected into their cholesterol-clogged arteries.

Oh, to be Mr. Wednesday, just footloose and fancy-free, murdering mice for sport and then risking certain death to sprint across Victoria Road and into Nanika to scream in the face of The Chicken Man, demanding a portion of his meat bounty in exchange for ONE (1) small pet upon your furry head before darting out the door without so much as a "thanks" in search of adventure and erotic entanglements, free from the burdens of 'civilised' existence.

Unfortunately, I am not a cat, and must instead panne chicken and roast weird powders for the masses, then serve them, which does allow me to ignore the collapse of the species by occupying sixty to seventy hours of my week. Which is the next best thing, I suppose.



Come and get your lunch/dinner, Thursday-Sunday for two more weeks, down at the bun hatch. I made beets, and a bun that is basically a hamburger.