No, No, No

Dear Kate,

Anything that doesn't speak to my imagination doesn't speak to me anymore.

This has always been the case but I am just making it clear now (for a purpose you will see), and the case has always been for everyone.

You think money is what you want, but the vision of where money can take you is what speaks to you.  And what's spoken is a mere promise: money doesn't jump out of your wallet to make you whole.  How do you know with more of the money that you claim you want--you need, your journey to the promised land will be made easier, likelier, sooner?

What is promised you?  Who's making the promise?  Why should you live as if the promise is real and realizable?

The answers are: no-thing, no one, no clue.

You are imagining everything, your "life" an invocation of...who the hell knows what.  No promise is made to you; no one is there to make it; absolutely no tenable reason to believe otherwise.

A federal election was called, in the middle of a pandemic, "the 4th wave" of it, because "Canadians deserve a say" at a "pivotal moment."  I don't know what I want to say, especially politically, to say anything meaningfully.  Even less why I "deserve" it.

Does my life "deserve" to have a meaning that can be spoken, and I the chance to speak it politically to realize the promised potentiality of being a Canadian, a father of two, a middle-aged man who could suffer a stroke any time and fail to complete even this present sentence?

So go on imagining: lie to yourself that is, and let yourself be lied to.  Listen to the promises and imagine them real.  Keep waking up to work, counting your calories, planning that renovation, DIY to prove a point, saving the receipts in exchange for something more promising.

This "pandemic election" is estimated to cost $610 millions, the most expensive in Canadian history, Elections Canada said.  It must be very meaningful, we Canadians very deserving of it, because, dah, life is full of meaning and everyone deserves every bit of it.

No-thing, no one, no clue.

Your, Alex