[ sur-k*uh* m-**am**-by*uh*-leyt ] to circle on foot, especially ritualistically.
April 1, 2020 - In the face of the temporary cancellation of the future, the present acquires granularity and substance, at times calming, at times frustrating. The absence of a future brings an immediate feeling of relief (“there is nothing to worry about anymore!”) and is quickly replaced by frustration (“why am I living if I don’t have a future?”) in repetitive waves of highs and lows. The resulting flux can seemingly only be smoothened out by a ritualistic, dogged determination to keep moving, keep acting, keep making meaning in defense of the wave of fatigue that threatens to overcome the body. The outside, meanwhile, seeps in through devices at a greater frequency and intensity as socializing and community become even more mediated through the internet. Economic, cultural and political incongruities, usually invisibilised by the rush and stress of daily existence, acquire stark contrast and in the process visibility, name-ability. Citizens find space to indulge in day-dreams old and new, giving rise to novel techno-futurisms in the process. Postscript: May 14, 2020 - the fatigue that threatened to overcome the body, has overtaken the body. The temporary cancellation of the future is met and mirrored by the cancellation of the past. The present is now the what-is-inbetween, rotten butter (because the fridge broke down) sandwiched within two temporal non-entities. Sneak commuting in violation of non-laws, defying non-police-police, berated for non-criminal-crime. Elections in the time of social distancing, military omnipresence, ethnoracist media and Jeff Bezos happily on the way to becoming the world’s first trillionaire.