With much internal grumbling, I’m going to the climate march tomorrow, marching with memories of other failed marches. Too many people I respect are going for me to say no. I can assure myself that we’re probably all in it for the ‘je sais bien, mais quand-même‘ of it all, and can assure you that I feel that my ecopractices — composting, biking, more or less vegetarianism, assiduous recycling, bringing my own bag-ism, stoop sale scroungerism — are more or less ways for me to feel good about myself when the climate well and truly collapses, as it will inevitably. As the waters take me, as the food runs out, I can think to my sodden corpse, well, it’s not MY fault. And isn’t a final smugness the thing we all want?
If you’re in New York, I’m sure I’ll see you there.