Patrick Stewart learned from Ian McKellen that it’s the “ands” and not the “tomorrows” that drive the rhetorical motion of Macbeth’s famous soliloquy. It’s the recognition of the enduring passage of time. Tomorrow is an object; the “and” is the turmoil about it’s impending arrival, both in the text and in the world.

Why do I mention it?

Because life has a way of happening. There’s no meaty diatribe today. There’s only 1)this apology for my slack-ass, which you’re currently reading and will cease at the ellipsis to the right…

…and a simple request.

Between this week and next, when I’ll be back to senselessly radicalize the (nonexistent) masses towards humanism, take stock of the world immediately around you. If you can’t walk there, or otherwise wouldn’t, it doesn’t count. This week, think about the world you can physically touch–about your daily experience if you could only travel on foot.

Would you be happy with the world that’s been built for you? I am, but I had the luxury of choice and chose wisely. Many people don’t. Most of them you can’t help.

But I bet you *could* do something for someone or something immediately nearby. The incredible thing about America (if there are any left) is that it was built, originally, burgh by burgh–block by block. That national level so opaque to we peasants is as ephemeral as any massive organization. The local, however, is yours to command. Build the world you want to see in your own back yard, and you’ll be pleasantly surprised to find the bigger picture looks a lot your back yard, only bigger.

Discover your neighborhood this week–and if you don’t have one, ask why.

Do good; be well,

-The Strangest