Bernard Picart:
Bust of Young Man Resting Chin on Hand (c. 1720)

" … only I hold the cure."

I sleep poorly, if at all, and I can't seem to get hungry. I recognize these symptoms, but only I hold the cure.

Let the record show that after sixty-nine consecutive mornings chronicling the emerging NextWorld, the author croaked out a muffled, "Uncle!" On the seventieth morning, he needed a break from engaging so intimately with his story, so he declared a break in the unrelenting action. The distress will doubtless remain regardless of my presence. I have been staring too long into this abyss. Spring threatens in the near distance. I should be teaching myself to garden again. I feel as though I've lost an old and trusted friend. After Bezos' inexplicable outburst, shifting the Washington Post's focus from honest opinion to propaganda, and another of their editor's hasty resignation, I'm losing another old friend. The WaPo was my local paper when we lived in Maryland. It's been my most prominent news source for the last fifteen years—half the old reliables there left before me. My breakfast companions. I'll follow them down into SubStack, where I already have a presence.

Lies have become the most easily accessible sources, though I doubt they will ever adequately replace the truth and nothing but. A few flowerbeds and fruit trees will be in crisis if they cannot attract my undivided attention. I will be right back …

Thank you for your patience and continuing presence. I'll post my usual weekly writing summary tomorrow.

©2025 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #NextWorld, #PureSchmaltz