The problem with predicting the apocalypse is if you’re correct then nobody can reward you and if you’re wrong you look silly. So far everybody who has ever predicted the apocalypse has (thankfully) been wrong, or they were vague enough about the date to make it roll over a few times. But in these divided times it is tempting to have a pop at the old “End of the world is nigh” business. Nowadays we’ve got the internet so we don’t have to carry heavy placards and bells around, although I’d take my tinfoil hat off to anyone who felt like giving it a go.
They’re throwing the adjectives and details around with this moon, those internet people. It’s a half blood thunder moon eclipse at midnight over Jerusalem. Oh lordy. “Rapture experts” reckon it’s a good target for the old apocalypse signal. I’m scheduling this blog for 6am tomorrow morning but maybe there’s no point. Damn.
Imagine being a rapture expert. “I’m just an apprentice. This is Bill. He’s the expert in Raptures.” “Hi Bill, how many Raptures have you experienced?” “Well, none. But I’ve read a lot of articles and I’m extremely opinionated without being curious. I just … take an idea and roll and roll and roll with it. Give me money.”
Ok, pros and cons to the apocalypse. Pro: I won’t have to tidy my bedroom. Con: I won’t get to do this crazybeautiful Tempest. Pro: We won’t have to worry about Brexit anymore. Con: We will never go back to that restaurant where we had that amazing meal. Pro: Those nasty people I don’t like will be reduced to ashes or vanished or whatever. Con: So will the nice people who I do like.
On balance I’d prefer not to explode tonight. I’ve gone to all the effort to write this for fuck’s sake. I’ve even learnt some Shakespeare.
We all imagine a big old meteor or a firestorm or zombies or Farage or Ebola. But we haven’t experienced the end of the world yet, or spoken to anyone that has. We think we are important and that our existence has significance, and we’ve consumed enough story to make us expect fireworks when we bow out as a species. Hmm. I wouldn’t be surprised if it came in the form of an algae or a creeping mold, like the jellyfish taking over the oceans. Something damp and slow and inevitable and undramatic and alien.
It’s all breaking down anyway. We are too arrogant to accept our culpability and too soft to give up our luxuries. I’m writing this on my Galaxy S9+. It’s a piece of technology I could only have dreamed of as a kid. Now we are all sucked into these screens. I often wonder if it will always be like this now until we burn, that friendship groups sit together in parks each of them separately lost in their portable screen.
So. The apocalypse. Can this privileged hippy put an order in? Can it be a massive love-in where everybody realises it’s just fear that makes them hate people they frame as different and we can all have a nice sing song and then this big old Rapture takes loads of people and nature takes over and anybody that didn’t get a ticket to the Rapture gets to hang out with nature?
I literally just saw a BADGER as I wrote the last sentence. I’ve been walkwriting through the dark park using my smartphone full of child-mined cobalt. Outside of roadkill I’ve never seen a badger. It ran away pretty quickly but it was about the size of Pickle and had a bright stripy head. We had a moment together, badger and I, before it sacked me off. My first wild badger sighting ticked off, maybe just before the Rapture. I can burn happy now, or vanish to ether or turn into a zombie or remain on this plane with Cernunnos and the badgers or whatever might be on the menu.
Meanwhile I’ll keep thinking about this show, just in case the apocalypse doesn’t quite come through this time. Maybe see you tomorrow. Maybe not.