We should be living in a Tron-like mega-world by now, but all we do is send each other screenshots of memes
I have nothing left to say to my friends any more. I think this is a longstanding symptom of the third lockdown, the boredom of which is blending into the horizon like a blur. Unlike the inescapable boredoms of lockdowns one (a kind of novelty boredom: everyone discovered how good they could feel without two hours of commuting every day; a weird kind of community feeling came out of baking banana bread and doing the same tedious Thursday night clap together) and two (the same, but different: jigsaws didn’t feel so fun once we’d all had that sweet taste of a pub or garden centre), the third lockdown’s inescapable boredom has a notably different texture to it. It’s something denser and spongier and greyer, a boredom that inspires … nothing.
Yes, there are some green shoots of optimism – with every text from an elderly or asthmatic person saying they’ve got the vaccine, the distant promise of the real world returning makes a tentatively solid-feeling step towards us – but it’s hard to remember that sometimes, when, in desperation for human contact, you find yourself messaging the usually crackling WhatsApp group chat with banter as dead as, “Lads: anyone got any good recipes for soup?”