The Landmark Indepenent Theatre was falling apart long before the world was. As we were all adjusting to new computer screens in shiny new cars that felt more like spaceships, cupholders were falling off seat arms, the popcorn kettle squeaked ominously, an HVAC drip plagued theatere 3, the shelf in the freezer where the pretzles were kept tilted precariously, joints permenantly unmoored, and the concessions counter was barely temperature controlled at the best of times.
At that point, the lake was already rapidly drying, the arsenic slowly seaping into our air supply. But we were still humming along, streaming our TV shows that refused to pay writers and absorbed in our smartphones full of blood-soaked rare-earth minerals, either ignorant of the end of the world or hoping, naively that it would not catch up to us for a few more years.
An apocalypse is not so much and “end of the world.” instead its more of an ending of a certain civilization, structures and systems we rely on heavily collapse and alternatives must be found.
Nihilistic Porcupine 