I mean to end this civilization. What gets you out of bed in the morning? I'm writing this introductory part after finishing the main text, which is a deviation from my usual process. I edit in my head and write straight to final draft. It worked beautifully in three issues of my zine Superweed, but this time, after six pages, I struck a narrative that carried me all the way to the end, and in that context the early pages seemed disjointed and irrelevant. So I'm overwriting them.
I've always had a thing about techno-industrial civilization. The scent that gives me the deepest nostalgia -- I don't know why -- is fresh tar. My mom says that when I was a little kid I was fascinated by construction cranes. Even now, after years in the city, I still think skyscrapers are really cool, and I often pause, while walking over the freeway, to stare in awe at all the cars. In third grade I would show off my spelling talent by spelling the word civilization, and the most serious addiction I've ever had was to the computer game Civilization II. I played it 15-20 hours a week in late 1999.