This is the age of the slogan, the soundbite, the snappy phrase in place of considered argument. Thought is dying; reason’s gone critical. In bookshops and magazine racks we’re told only what we want to hear: we’re told it in neat, bullet-pointed affirmations of our own worth.

No more. This is the fightback. The resuscitation. This is the slogan as explainer of the world. One a day for a year. Three hundred and sixty five phrases, soundbites and bullet points with which to make sense of the way things are now and point to how things could be tomorrow. Read them and weep.


Wednesday

51. The future is unwritten

There’s no such thing as fate, or destiny. There is no predetermination, no astrology and anyone who says different is trying to sell you something. Nobody can see the future, nobody can predict what might happen tomorrow. So grow up, take responsibility. Stop hiding behind an illusion of powerlessness in the face of a decided future; stop telling yourself you’re just a passenger, just a victim, only ever able to react to events that were always going to happen anyway. And for crying out loud, stop reading your horoscope, stop examining your tea leaves, stop looking for answers in cards and crystal balls. The future is unwritten. By the weekend we could be lottery winners and we could be dead. We could be both.
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