Obsidian Blackbird McNight

Last year was the milestone. This year is going to be… something else. A new start? Maybe. A different direction? Also maybe. A radical shift in production, style, topic, or genre? Again, maybe.

I’m feeling dark. Not angry or depressed, just… dark. Maybe it’s being exhausted with fools and their incessant demands to be suffered. Maybe it’s becoming an unwilling victim of the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-dancing algorithm. Maybe it’s approaching yet another decade of seeing the worst of us canonized, the best of us demonized, and so many of us becoming so… brittle.

Yet here I am again, signing up to nurture and grow a new batch of babies to be sent into a mostly uncaring world full of minds far more interested in scoring that next rage-induced dopamine hit than seeking beauty or wonder. Will I distract myself with shiny things? Grease the hamster wheel with the tears of the weak? Forget my self-imposed exile to the Island of Misfit Toys? Will this darkness be a rabbit hole of wonders or a pit full of grues?