Gen Z seem to see trauma and toxicity everywhere they look. As I’ve just been reminded, that doesn’t mean they’re imagining things
Near where I live, there’s an open-mic day for local kids who are in bands. It’s slickly run, with professional sound engineers and equipment, and it’s all free. It’s an act of incredible generosity by a load of self-effacing ponytail guys, and I believe it will save at least a minuscule corner of the world of live music, just by populating south-east London with 14-year-olds who know how to plug in an amp.
It was Sunday. My treasured 15-year-old first born was about to play bass. I was in an incredibly good mood. My ex-husband had just said in a really loud voice: “I love the World Cup and I won’t have any woke liberals ruining it for me,” and even though he was joking, there was no way for bystanders to know that, so now they all think that he’s bad and I, per the ancient laws of the relational binary, am nice.
