I have an almost ritualistic approach to big interviews, and this one is no different: the lead-up rituals involve a loooong overdue haircut (any editorial suggestions need to come to my desk by 5:30 this evening) and the loooooong overdue purchase of some tights without holes in them. Although I might just wear those thigh socks from American Apparel since I always feel more self-confident when my snatch is closer to liberty.
Speaking of which - since in the back of my mind I've always assumed by the time I was in my late 20s humanity would have evolved enough to be running around nekked, at least during the summer - in the last year I've got closer to realizing in a practical and non-moany way the world is not an easy place to change. It's full of stupid people. Some of them are friends of mine. It's been very hard to realize that friends have become really brazenly racist.
I don't have any illusions about immigration being an easy thing, and I understand objecting to some of the principles of Canadian immigration laws even if I don't agree with the objections, as came up at a dinner party a few weeks ago with guests who never read this blog so I don't know why I'm making clear I'm not writing about them. But that's really not what I'm writing about. I'm writing about people who are content to feel a sort of visceral, unthinking hate and angry lack of intelligence, a wilful lack of intelligence about visible minorities.
It reminds me how the Holocaust must have been quite easy to manage and it was good luck rather than good intentions that all the Japanese who were interned in Canada during the second world war weren't killed outright. No wonder we've built up a mythos of Germany as a country full of scheiße porn and anal-retentive sado-masochists. We want so badly to believe that never could have been us who did those things. That it never will be us.