# was watching miss fisher's murder mysteries i also suddenly noticed i wasn't even remotely interested in whatever dull murder mystery they were trying to solve i realized it was far more the fact that the dramatic nature of the murder being solved completely bypassed the daily existential grind of day to day existence - work complicated and messy relationships bills - death all the main character did was dress up and looked mildly concerned while flirting with the chief of police - yet the violets and distress of murder never once truly appeared to effect ir in fact they looked quite happy swanning around in a red 1923 46cv hispano-suiza surrounded by friends and servants and the invisible privilege afforded ir by inherited aristocrat wealth (this despite ir bs rags-to-riches backstory in the novels) it was merely the very neurospectacle of 'the dramatic' and theatrical illusion that was able to create and sustain a world i once thought apparently worth existing when in fact once i realized how deeply superficial and empty it was popped like a bubble of champagne-colored morning dew upon the impossibly ancient truly mysterious and infinitely beautiful australian desert plain // republic of bob