I’m oddly non-alarmist. In fact, as the Sociopath book I’m reading tells me, I might be one of the 4% of society who depends on extra thrills.
So when there are hurricanes, wildfires, tsunamis, I actually grow joyful and calm. Yeah, I guess I’m heartless.
At a distance, however, I realize my happiness is justified because it means the earth is doing what it does with no regard for the hubris of humanity. In essence, nature is supreme and that raises my dopamine. Maybe I’m not a sociopath, then, but just a guy who likes my mother earth in full force.
I will say this, though, I cannot breathe well. My chest is tight. I’m a bit light headed. The air is awful. Sometimes it smells like a campfire. Sometimes it smells like eucalyptus. A few minutes ago, all I could smell were Cuban cigars. I don’t know why.
This yellow spume that we are living in is not enjoyable. People have survived much worse. The weather is supposed to change by Thursday. We all look forward to it.
Most of the footage you see of people in Malibu is pretty cool. They’re not a people in denial. They know this happens and they are prepared. They take off with their kids and dogs and photo albums and laptops and wait it out. But when you see a guy on TV, like I did today, self-righteously moaning, “Where are the firemen? Where are they? I haven’t seen one all day,” you just have to think, “Dude, you knew the risk when you moved here. Buy in town if you want a less perilous existence.”
If it all burns, it all burns.