Edgar Degas: After the Bath III (1891–92)

"I'll be actively Aftering until this nightmare's over."

During an intolerable time, I appreciate even more fully the human capacity to project into a more satisfying future. Even if it comes in the form of daydreaming, there's something supremely satisfying about it. I can seemingly leave present troubles behind me for a spell and heal myself there. These respites help render difficult experiences more tolerable and prove to be a godsend for those of us who occasionally find ourselves overwhelmed. I find reassurances in the realization that, however awful, every present proves fleeting, never to return. If today seems awful, tomorrow and especially the days after, promise at least the potential of better.

Those who believe they can extend their current streak indefinitely tend to be the most disappointed in the end. Those who can retain the belief, even faith, that something better is coming seem most likely to satisfy their aspirations, for something different will undoubtedly come, and with that, the potential for even better. We live and we learn. After we burn ourselves, we tend to become more circumspect. We can only be truly naive once—well, twice if we're unfortunate—but after that, we're better able to make choices more likely to satisfy our nature. Poor choices evolve into better ones. Worse eventually abandons itself.

Days when I forget to doomscroll leave open adequate space for some active Aftering. The sense that I must constantly watch for breaking news becomes a self-unfulfilling notion. The more I engage in that fashion, the less satisfied I seem. I often find what passes for reality to seem supremely unsatisfying. The latest inanity quoted in the press. The latest depressing economic forecast. Most of this falls far short of fascinating. There's nothing actionable crawling along the bottom of any television screen. Nothing vaguely enlightening ever accompanies film at eleven. Important news will trickle down and into consciousness, assuming there is any consciousness left after the continual flooding of the intake channel.

I have work of true significance that's gone begging as I suffered through a seasonal head cold. This work will outlast my existence by perhaps hundreds of years. The news evaporates as soon as it’s broadcast. After this time, after this administration uninterested and incapable of administering anything, something more resembling regular order will return. I say this confidently, only because it has always been the case before, and these current clowns are nobody’s permanent culture engineers. They offer a distracting sidetrip into a nightmarish Never-Never Land where their haunting alarm clock never stops ticking. I'm already gone, Aftering in relative comfort, reveling in an order they haven't been able even to imagine yet, let alone defend against.

I refuse to contribute my sanity to their inanity. Come and get me if you think you can. I'm already gone, abandoning their irrelevance for something you might consider to be a pipe dream. We can compare later who experienced the most satisfying passage. I'll be actively Aftering until this nightmare's over.

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