Journal Entries: September 2024, by Adam Lehrer
Some of Adam's notes from the last month immortalized for posterity
Not following people back on social media is my power trip, my means of deluding myself into thinking that there is some degree of separation, either in sophistication, intelligence or cultivation of aesthetic, that distinguishes me, the artist, from you, the viewer. Don’t take it personally, it’s a bad narcissistic trait.
In a review of Fassbinder’s In a Year of 13 Moons, one of his cruelest works of cinematic art, a NYT critic said that the film’s only “redeeming quality is genius,” and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Genius - inspiration, execution, creation - IS the ONLY redeeming quality…
We are being subjected to a demoralization campaign at multiple levels:
1. Polls showing huge Kamala support (her support is skeptical and manufactured, not authentic, which makes it wishy washy)
2. Pundits insisting Kamala is the second coming of Obama if not some kind of god like figure
3. Fake bots insisting they’re former conservatives jumping Trump train, a thing you will never come across in real life)
4. Black pill serving conservatards trying to make us think everything is going badly and that the campaign is fucking up because they are not doing the thing THEIR way (these people care more about their takes than they do America, I don’t)
I can’t stress to you how important MORALE is and, this is politics, BELIEF even a little magical thinking. Even when it’s bleak you need to march forward and know that victory is possible, because it is!
If you are in a culture industry and you can say you support one political candidate and receive nothing but praise and endorsement, but you cannot say you support the other political candidate without risking the complete destruction of your platform and career, you aren’t in a culture industry.
You’re in a party disciplinary bureaucracy.
From the dream journal: Michelle and I try to have hands off approach to raising children, but something is off. I am working barbecue at a party of friends on a boat pretending to be fine. For some reason a t shirt reminds me of the harsh reality that my child had died. I sob and shriek when I wake up.