I don't know, but when you wake to Sade on the radio at 4:30 in the morning and head straight for Virginia Woolf before making breakfast, downing four cups of coffee, and planting yourself in front of the word processor, you find yourself wondering these things. Especially after you decide that the only way to understand Cristiano Ronaldo is as "the monstrous body of capital, the avatar of neoliberalism itself." That voice is hard to shake: it's so nightmarishly portentious it seems like you must be getting at some deep insight when, really, you're just skimming off surfaces.
The rains done come. Sountrack for the day: Toto's "Rosanna"
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