Transhipped Reality and the new year

The surreality of modernity swoops into even the most hermetically sealed lives. Even I can't escape pop-culture in it's entirety no matter how hard I try. For whatever reason the end of the year triggers all kinds of nostalgic reminiscence about the receding year. As if art, music, film...as if any of the cultural products that now have to be reviewed have some cyclical relation to the seasonal changes. Culture moves and lurches at an uneven and unsteady pace, and it feels foolish to me to try and simplify or box up neatly the messy realities that are a part of these processes. I know it can seem more comforting to have these well-tailored explanations for the complexities of art or life, but I really feel heavily that they are just stage props for an unsteady civilization.