Where’s my time machine?

Just now I watched a movie we recorded some time in the late 90’s. Johnny Mnemonic, but that doesn’t have much to do with this. First I saw a short sequence from a talk show – one of our Swedish ones – And this – come on – I hate talk shows – but this one actually seemed ok. I never even watched those when they were on. The theme song is so good. Of course I thought so even at the time. But again, it’s got nothing to do with any of this.

Before my movie started, there was a commercial and – this is completely insane – it was better too, compared to what we get now. Not that it’s anywhere as good as the commercials I’ve seen on British tv.

Then finally the good old 90’s movie began, with its fin de siècle ambiance. Back in those days when we thought everything was pretty much ok and would continue to be that way, so we dared to watch dystopic depictions of the future.

That’s when I realized it. I want to go back. Help, I want out. The future isn’t what it used to. Where’s my time machine?

I want to return to the days when I, despite everything, still had a little hope left. When there was still a little bit of good future left to look forward to. At least I thought so. But here it is. The bad new world, with carbon footprints and mass extinctions and more incurable plagues than ever before. Where the abyss is gaping wide open only half a step from my narrowing path.

If you find my time machine, or maybe the wormhole I can catch a ride with back home, get in touch. I can pack really quickly and I don’t sleep so well either. Here I am, just waiting.