The Interstate Is Always. . . Road Closed

Maybe I'm starting to understand Generations X/Y/Z's fascination with the Artemis's journey.  In the 1960s, the journey out was the journey within.  People were tripping literally and figuratively.  "The Road" was still a means of escape.  My dead ex-friend always told me, "The interstate lies just down the road."  He meant that when things got bad, you could always go somewhere else.  

No more.  The world has shrunk and it seems every place is doom, at least if you believe what the press say about the attitudes of American youth.  Maybe they pin their hopes on going to the moon.  Just going.  Getting the fuck out.  A generational fantasy.  

Because, as the old song goes, "You ain't going nowhere." 

Except maybe in video games.  Kids don't seem too interested in outdoor adventure anymore.  My friends have owned one of the largest outdoor shops in the Southeast for forty-some years.  They say the industry is dying.  There was a time, however, when it was everything.  Who could have predicted this?  

I feel fortunate.  It sure was fun.  Artemis seems like the little league to me.  But hey, you know what they always say--"Man, you should have been there ten years ago!  Everything has changed now.  They fucked it all to hell."

Maybe its true, but I doubt it. 

Let's go back to the Middle Ages.  Right?  No showers or toilets or toilet paper.  Rats, fleas and bedbugs.  No salt.  No corrective lenses.  Mattresses stuffed with what?  Rotten meat and spoiled vegetables.  

"Man, you shoulda been there.  They fucked it all up now." 

Game of Thrones and all that.  Bullshit.  

Things do change, but you know, there is always something.  Sure, sure, take away the kids' phones.  Make them write with pencils.  Return them to the glorious past.  

Yea, maybe I appreciate Gen X/Y/Z's interest in the Artemis mission.  I'll shut up about it.  

The interstate is just down the road.  Traffic there has been at a standstill all morning.  Officials are requesting you be patient and drive with caution.  They want you to "Arrive Alive." 

Ain't that some shit?  

I guess that rant came from the photo I posted.  Just popped into my head.  I was going to write a bit about Q6+ at his request.  He's a great admirer of Lucy Sante.  There is a big article on her today in The Times (link).  But I have no time for that now.  It is Good Friday, and I have to begin my. . . what is it?  What do people do?  

Just buy Easter Baskets for my mother's friends and neighbors who have been so kind to her.  I'll put little bottles of booze in them, airline size. 

I get a little dread, though, thinking about Easter.  Ili was an Easter baby, and I could never satisfy her desire for Faberge Eggs with jewels hidden inside.  To me (and my ilk), an Easter basket from Williams and Sonoma was splurging.  

Selavy.  Not everything in the past is enviable.  

I can't believe I have a song to go with this.  I heard it last night while working on pictures.  A little bit of slow motion Zydeco.  I flipped.  They have better songs than this one, but this one seems. . . kismet.  I think that's the word.