You learn to shop carefully, always searching for where an item is made, avoiding places you know are not socially responsible.
The search is complicated by the lack of nearby stores, by the ubiquity of Amazon, by the certainty that the product won’t arrive for some time, and when you find one you like, you scroll down and see the magic buzzword “Imported” and you know from experience that is another way of saying China, and the search goes on.
You want something. Tell me what it is. Don’t hedge, be open and honest. I may not give it to you. I may not have it to give. I may have it and give it freely. I may have and not want to part with it. I may not have, can get it and give it. Or not. You will not know until you ask for it. I may seek a reason you want it. I may not care. I may seek a reason while not caring. That is my prerogative. I don’t expect you to like that. I may or may not care whether you like it or not. But first you must tell me what it is. I will not guess but I will wait. I am very patient. Or perhaps I am not and you have already missed your opportunity. Life is difficult. You didn’t ask for it to be.
In Yuma, Arizona today, I have no idea what might have happened. Once, without going to a library and rummaging through microfiche in the dust laden corner of the second basement, I would never be able to find out. And if I did, I would wonder why there was not some simpler way of finding out. Now I can search the internet and know what did happen and what some think happened. I can find truth and conspiracies involving Yuma. It will take some time, but it can be done with relative ease. The problem is that I couldn’t care less what happened in Yuma today or most any day.
He no longer cared when it would happen, he knew it would or would not according to its own whims and desires and it would happen when it chose to do so. He could not control who would be there, it might be him or might not, so if he was, fine, and if not, so be it. And he knew not to stand still assuming it would happen there, for it was likely to happen there or somewhere else, a place of its choosing. It would have its own reasons and he could ascribe a reason and it might suit him, but he knew at a deep level that he would be engaged in the sort of self-delusion he so despised in others. And when he understood all of this, he knew exactly what he needed to do and retired from the news uncertain who he would be, where he would go or when, what he would do and why anyone would care, and he was happy.