Forest fires, lost submersibles containing the super rich, soaring heat waves. It’s all in a week’s headlines and another regular shmegular occurrence for the numbed existence of our generation.

“Just read about the fire in Quebec, just checking in that you and your friends/family are safe and okay? x”

I’m spending the early summer back in Canada, catching up with pals and family in both Montreal and Toronto. June began with forest fires ravaging the province, as a dense layer of smog sent air quality levels in Eastern Canada and the USA to a record setting low. One of my pals messaged our group chat about how the air was akin to smoking half a pack of cigarettes.

What made headlines around the rest of the world was met with a blasé sense of nihilism by my friends and I. Memes and TikToks about the fires and their impact referencing Dune and Sex and the City sprung up immediately. New Yorkers made light of the situation by pointing out it was “Canada’s fault” in catty video clips.

There has been much research regarding the use of memes and online humor as a coping mechanism. A pessimistic attitude has become popular, in a similar fashion to the caveat of preceding every conversation with acknowledging that “we’re all operating under capitalism right now, which is like…bad” (I know, we all know, just accept that you ordered from Amazon, it’s okay, you’re not gonna implode).

It’s a sense of surrendering that is unlike any other. A collective shrug. And a damn good time to be employed as a social media manager (whoever runs The Cut’s instagram account…I want your job). We’re so sick of the same conversation happening over and over again that why bother anymore? What I’m trying to get at here is that sometimes the overwhelming sense of nihilism and/or existentialism (I don’t know what you preach and practice) makes it difficult to actually grasp any sense of urgency. Maybe this is my own fault for neglecting any kind of action in favour of online rotting, a laugh in lieu of effort. But maybe it’s also because this is so run of the mill at this point that more of my friends have decided they want to remain childless because why bother chucking children into our current state, that buying a house is absurd amidst a global housing crisis and that yeah maybe those rich people will die in the tiny Titan sub but isn’t that hilariously ironic as they look upon the wreckage of the Titanic? (Update: They did).

Part of me doesn’t care that I breathed in horribly polluted air for several days in Montreal (I heard smoking’s really in again) and part of me just doesn’t want to care. I guess it’s a self-preservation tactic – a constant downplaying of emergency statements and alarming statistics in an attempt to ease my anxiety and actually sleep at night. My friends and I think in the short-term now, no longer the long-term. Short-term means taking advantage of airfare discounts, $7 lavender lattes, a few too many beers on a night out, because what’s in the long-term? Illegal lease transfers as rents rise in Quebec, skyrocketing university tuition, millions of dollars for rickety old homes in urban centres that’ll require loads of maintenance, droughts? I have it so damn nice with my life, but we all think about these things. Choices I’ll have to make regarding the ticking clock that are my reproductive years have a greater impact that they did a generation or two ago so of course I want to tune out by watching a climate change parody of Sex and the City (do you think Carrie would wear Manolo Blahniks in a flood?).

Yesterday, I sat on the train from Montreal to Toronto. At one point, it stopped in the middle of a field for about 2 hours, a delay which turned out to be due to a bush fire nearby that firefighters were putting out. None of us on the train thought twice about it. Just another day. At least I got a free granola bar and water.

The Doom Generation