My parent’s generation has to be the most despondent generation of the ages. The Hippie CounterCulture Revolution was a bitter failure. All of their self-love, flower power, drugs, and freak orgies in the name of solidarity were no match for the Undeniable Evil Superpower, which only grew stronger throughout the decades.
Defeated & overthrown, most of the hippies grew up and conformed into the 9to5 corporate life they spent the bulk of their youth rebelling against. They popped out some kids and filled their minds with opportunistic propaganda, trying to fill their children’s minds with the optimism brutally snatched from their hands long ago. “You can be anything you want to be if you put your mind to it” & “Shoot for the stars. If you miss, at least you’ll be amongst the moon.” What became of that?
Well, the 90s had a brief resurgence of the Bohemian lifestyle, most properly depicted in indie films and Rent on Broadway. But that came and went too. Now my generation is growing up and realizing that it’s all shit and from the looks of it, we’ll be following in our parents footsteps. Starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension but ultimately flowing with the grain, going insane & mad, pop out a few kids with hopes that they will be able to change the infrastructure in ways that we couldn’t.
Which leaves me here with a blog, one amongst a sea of millions of others. Angry, jaded, & spiraling in a vortex of confusion without the power to make a significant difference.
When does optimism end and become delusions? When do hopes become fallacies? In the end, does it even really matter?
When the elevator tries to bring you down all you can do is go crazy and punch for a higher floor, and hope you reach it in time.