LIVE FROM THE END TIMES, is a sporadic publication from yours truly commenting on the hellscape that is the current timeline we’re all on, how I interpret, digest, and deal with it. A primary source of history left for the aliens.

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05/08/2024

On my drive home from work yesterday I slowly drifted into an extensive daydream about interior design. What began as reminiscing on all the compliments I got on my home during my birthday party this past Saturday, slowly transformed into how I would refine my design in my next home. My current design style is “1,000 year old vampire who’s fun/colorful and has been collecting treasures over the years.” Which I for sure am pulling off, if I do say so myself. If 1,000 year old vampire is my design vision statement, my mission statement would be to design like I actually live in my apartment. There are clusters of earrings next to the TV, markers always sit out on my coffee table waiting for inspiration to strike, open shelves in my kitchen, and you’ll always find a bra hanging on a door corner or handle. But once I finally invest in a couch more than $100 and eventually enter the next phase of life, I’ll be ready for a cleaner look. Like a 2,000 year old vampire who’s finally refined and relaxed into their life. I began to think, “Oh I’ll definitely have to figure out a way to work with a designer” not for them to design solo but to work as a team bringing our collective vision to life. (You know like Kirsten Dunst and Jane Hallworth) And EVERYONE knows you have to work with a designer to get the best deals and source from the coolest vendors. Thoughts of plush green couches and expensive art lead me to my dream home that I sketched in one of my journals years ago. Sometimes I have things that just stick in my brain and I turn them over and over until I get it out of my system. My dream house is that. To finally let it rest and to be able to come back to it later, I sketched the floor plan. Labeling rooms, noting stairs, I even started to sketch the expansive landscape I envisioned. While walking through the floor plan in my head I was suddenly snapped back into reality. Because I remembered that like so many other dreams, I had let that die.

Living in the end times means that you have to eventually reckon with the fact that your dreams may just be that, dreams. That career you’re going to work your way up at or that neighborhood you can’t wait to buy a house in in 10 years, probably won’t be there. And if it does it’s going to happen simultaneously with the water crisis, the downfall of democracy, and the havoc earth will unleash when she’s finally done with our human bullshit. That may seem nihilistic, but to me it just seems realistic. It’s not that I don’t hope for a future, or dream about what could be. But as someone with big dreams and grand ideas I had to force myself to sit with the facts. We have 4 years, 329 days, and 22 hours to change carbon emissions before it’s too late to reverse climate change damage. By 2024 we could be running out of clean water and will see mass migration from the coasts. The United States is currently in an 8 year stretch of divisive political agendas. When you look at the facts, and the astrology, we really are the generation that will see the beginning of the end. A massive overhaul of American democracy and the destruction of the planet are on my lifetime bingo card. So what’s the point of chasing this big, rich dream when in reality it won’t happen or it’ll be taken away.

Yes I still have dreams but instead of the huge mansion, compound it’s a tiny cottage on acreage where my immediate circle also lives. I want to learn to grow crops instead of working overtime to be able to buy a designer bag. I want to create a sanctuary for my community, not just myself.

08/25/2024

Well I moved. After 2 fires in my small apartment building in 2 months, I had no choice but take the sign for what it was and move. Plus the smoke damage and loss of belongings didn’t help. Remember how I said I was thinking about my next place, and refining my style. Well, that was because I thought I’d be in my last place for at least 3 more years. I thought I had time to settle, time to plan. This apartment that I loved and hoped and dreamed in. I thought it would be the place where I’d plan for the inevitable end.

But all things end. So if you haven’t figured it out already:

Welcome to the END TIMES.