Jeff Low does horrible things to me. Yes, that’s me in the photo above.
Today we come to you from Bucharest where one night we ordered steak to Jeff’s hotel room and I drank all of his wine (he didn’t have much) and we talked on the mics. And we got into it deep and dark. Jeffer’s suffers from depression. He’s on some new medication and it seems to be doing the trick. I’ve never been depressed in my life, luckily, although there are plenty of reasons for it these days. Or are there? Is life any worse now that it was a hundred years ago for someone growing up poor in a third world country? I guess it depends who you ask. Is it any better for us here in the first? I think so. Fucking relativism…
We have come to count on comfort as though it’s our right. We’re addicted to it and we think we deserve it. We think we’ve done something worthwhile to keep it. I don’t think I’ve done anything. But when you luck-out and grow-up in Western Canada you know no different. But all this prosperity and democracy are new, fragile and flawed. And it could all go up in an angry orange fireball at any minute. And yet I’m never depressed about it. I was wired up to be happy most of the time except when I’m losing my temper. Jeff is different. He’s got the darkness. So which one is the truth? Is one more closer to reality? Does it matter?
This great evil, where’s it come from? How’d it steal into the world? What seed, what root did it grow from? Who’s doing this? Who’s killing us, robbing us of life and light, mocking us with the sight of what we might’ve known? Does our ruin benefit the earth, does it help the grass to grow, the sun to shine? Is this darkness in you, too? Have you passed through this night? – Terence Malik, The Thin Red Line