Wednesday, 23 April 2014

From a Dark Place.

I was up at 03H30 tis morning, wanting to write something meaningful, something that may have left you with some sort of an impression through your day, all I got was cold and violated by mosquitos. One might say I am content as I am not angrily ranting about something I find offensive,that's what you get from an opinionated people watcher, but I have once again digressed and "content"...I don't understand the meaning of the word and if I did, I may even be content. Whatever it is I just don't feel it, then again I couldn't really say I am malcontent either, though I'm sure you might think so. It always reminds me of these lyrics "It's astounding. Time is fleeting. Madness takes its toll. But listen closely... Not for very much longer. I've got to keep control. I remember doing the time-warp" The clinging onto some sort of perceived life expectancy, and of course I don't mean time but content here, there is that ugly word again, CONTENT, perhaps contentment requires enough content? Or perhaps it's the kind of content one surrounds ones self with that makes for contentment. The other hand says your contentment signifies a lack of imagination and challenging content, I don't know, but I do know I feel angry. Life is shit, no matter which way you cut it, it's shit. I wake to the news of a country in free falling decline, social media posts of owners burning their dogs, children with cancer and the inane being made famous by people with a chronic lack of imagination. I look about me and I see a truly lost generation, this is not the generation of Dr Martin Luther King, not the generation that tore down the Berlin wall, not the generation of Einstein, Capote, Dali not even Steven Hawkins, but a truly lost generation, lost in their own self image. I sat at a small eatery a few nights ago, my girl gone for a week, and ordered a pizza to go, as I sat waiting, 4 young beautiful girls sat across from me chatting away and I was drawn to one in some kind of stupefied awe, she had her cell phone up and was taking pictures of herself making ridiculous faces, perhaps an exaggerated, retarded pout is what is seen as sexy today, who knows. That's it isn't it, so self absorbed to not even notice the world around them, not even the very friends you came out with, what a perfect analogy for this generation. Gratefully, with a little luck, no scratch that, I have perhaps 20 more years left, and my impact on this world will be like the smallest grain of sand on long beach and I will leave in obscurity, but not without my rage, burning angry rage at what it is to be human today. What mark will be left I ask myself, I used to live at 4 Freesia Street, and used to joke about how safe it was because of the crack house a few doors down, it meant the police were there every day and therefore made it a stupid place for thieves as you were likely to get caught. In four years since I left I have driven past maybe once or twice, and I did today, the crack house is gone, replaced by a neat tidy little suburban home, irrigation and manicured lawns. I mourned the crack house, I felt a real sense of loss, like the passing of someone you knew, but like the house we will all move along, into newer phases and eventually into graves, and like the crack house we will leave very little if any trace of being there. This is not the case for previous generations, they all left a mark, but this one will leave nothing, a tv snowing away as it waits for the next "reality" series, as their kids drool over themselves on cocaine and methamphetamine's, in their hands the latest gaming console. It's hardly surprising that there is no concept of morality, kindness, social consciousness, love, caring, hope, and all this futility will be blamed on someone else, because this generation will blame everyone else but themselves. Perhaps these are the musings of an old man, and perhaps this is what my grandfather said about our generation, and perhaps we didn't do that much, but at least there were some real milestones to our lives, and perhaps I'm wrong and everything's just fine, and it's all gonna be just fine, but down in the pit of your stomach, what's it telling you? That nausea is the knowledge that it's not all allright, in fact it's all fucked up, and we need to act positively and not live in the hope that it will change, but be the change.

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