LOST IN 1997 (another half-fiction from forgotten space)

John Ledger

Part in a series of time-travelling blogs

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In the ever-same future that I occupy of the year 2015 I wrote of how my ‘final true futuristic vision [in life]… was conjured listening to ‘climatize’by the Prodigy, from one of the last true popular-yet-landmark albums ‘The Fat of The Land’, whilst driving past the outer-high-rises of Birmingham on the Motorway in the family car in summer 1997. Well, tonight something occurred whilst my eyes were fixed all trance-like on my current work-in-progress that seemed to join it up with this point in summer ’97.

Somewhere between the album sleeves of Radiohead’s OK Computer and The Prodigy’s The Fat of The Land, between Airbag and Climbatize, lay my last moments I can truly call futurist; an ability to imagine something beyond a recognisable present. Perhaps I am alone in being unable to evade the slow-motion world-freeze of continuity – that constitutive…

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Whilst We Were All In The Eternal Now… (2014)

John Ledger

Whilst We Were All In The Eternal Now  (1959x3000)Whilst We Were All In The Eternal Now… (2014)

The future returns from the past. Yesterday’s future left unchecked, comes back to haunt.  Not the great expectations of that high modernist period, but those dangerous potentialities and instrumentalist horror that ran alongside it.

Nothing much feels real any more, at least not in the way I’ve grown to expect real things to feel. Even events that directly concern me are experienced as if they’re behind a screen placed there to transmit the spectacle. The anguish of unreality is most acute when you try to sense the sadness and horror caused by  “the planet’s little wars [which are] joining hands” (Sweet Bird of Truth, The The), and the world’s little climate disasters which are joining hands, and yet it somehow doesn’t feel like it’s happening. You know our species has a shared interest in preventing such things, and…

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Total Recall (This is The Day …you thought your life would change)

John Ledger

  A time-traveling semi-fictional account of my ‘bipolar’ year, before the lockdown of ‘managed’ depression. The final and perhaps most important of a series of back-tracking blogs

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“…and now the past has returned to haunt me “

It’s 2016. The day after a work-based session learning how to deal with dementia sufferers, which ended up feeling more like an afternoon of warning signs, and (although it turned out it wasn’t just me doing such self-examinations) I was having to psychologically bat them away, as if I had self-doubt-carrying mosquitoes in my head. How had I become so out-of-joint with lived experience? What had happened to make me feel that the past decade was a storm of immaterial nothingness?

Although evidence abounds that links all this to the point where we became immersed in an ‘always on’ culture (was 2005 /2006 the point when we began this slide into a quagmire…

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