Private inequity and nontent

Nothing-content, angry women and the pub-stack.

The world had moved on since then. The world had emptied.

- Stephen King, The Gunslinger

Photo by sophia valkova on Unsplash

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I’m really angry about the pub. Not sad-angry. Not cute-angry. Not quick-temper angry.

Rage-angry.

Slow-building, simmering, volcanic-caldera-when-the-gates-of-hellfire-open-and-weep-brimstone angry.

Everywhere I turn, I’m told: let go, relax, release your anger. Be at peace.

Accept your own futility.

And I get angrier.

It’s been awhile since I offered an update on the pub, hasn’t it?

That’s because I have no update to offer on the pub.

The pub is silent, the pub is still closed. It is coming up to a year of no pub.

What happens to an old building like this when it lies empty? It rots, slowly. Rainwater erodes slates and the kitchen roof folds in on itself. The building’s caretakers do nothing. Customers go elsewhere and forget it.

The world moves on.