How Moby Taught Me to Stop Worrying and Love the Apocalypse

In the midst of working on a top-secret photo album for my girlfriend's birthday, I noticed the time and sped off to a 7 p.m. screening of the new Jake Gyllenhaal art-house film, Enemy. It was a jarring transition to leave my half-built microcosm of love, memories and pink polka dots for an aggressively puzzling universe of dualities, enigmatic motivations and the demise of everything as embodied by a big, creeping tarantula. A familiar ball of angst began to grow in my chest after the credits r...