Like I said, I want to write something that vaguely resembles a review of things I am looking at, but these past few months have been sort of a blur of events, and although I have indeed been plowing through a lot of interesting material, I’ve had no free time – I mean, really free time – to write anything about anything. And by now I’ve probably forgotten more than half of it. Which raises the question, Why bother reading anything (or watching any films, or attending any live performances, or doing anything cultural) at all? There are many publications that devote themselves to chasing the Newest of the New – your average weekly, for instance, which every week breathlessly gushes over the latest films and touring bands, or monthly music magazines, or even the occasional literary publication, although it becomes less and less likely you’ll find any reviews in those things. Or so I’m told. But why bother? It all just goes by, it’s like being stuck in a car or train, or even a plane; eventually, all the beauty and variety of things passing the windows becomes a blur.
