The Mundane

Routine. Not necessarily tedious, but it can be. There are sounds familiar and comforting, intrusive and annoying. Same sounds. The mundane is worldliness, being in and of the world. Worldly from surfeit, worldly from suffering. Worldward vision, worldward blockage. It’s out there. Even our interior is focused out there. It’s paying rent, it’s getting a paycheck. It’s fucking off to the Mediterranean without knowing what anything costs because you don’t need to, it’s resenting governments for trying to make you think about other people. It’s an open robe embarrassment, and a closed door excitement. The world spins but seems to stand still, only the sun and moon tip us off. Our axis of routine and banal success-failure feels linear, yet when we pause and look, we encounter our memories, visions, and dreams in myriad times and places, states of mind, all a jumble yet also somehow synchronized. It’s all quite dull.