I traded my heart for a junkyard and can hardly fall in love anymore
Today is Bowie’s birthday... is this all?
Do you feel the end of coolness?
You feel the urge to scream from the cultural-stagnation wreck we’ve all crashed onto…
You want to scream: “I want my life back!”
Do you feel that aimlessly wandering through an ’80s mall is the most beautiful moment of your life?
Wandering through a mausoleum of vitality!
The absolute peak of humanity, the last time everything felt vividly alive, warm, and full of promise, after which everything went completely off the rails.
Wandering forever in this ’80s mall might be the best time of our lives.
We intuitively know why we love Stranger Things… because it captures the last human-like aesthetics we experienced as humans.
Is it like the last best sex we had before we fell totally into a cultural menopause/andropause?
Because we humans… we need genuine color to our life…
I noticed, and I heard from many people, that it’s like the world has stopped in its evolution.
The fashion and style evolution.
It’s as if society lost its historical engine, or as if everything was crushed under an artificial growing machine that has no life in it.
The aesthetics of our times seem to have stopped.
We wear barely the same clothes from 2005 onward.
Same look, maybe a little more beardish.
Everything is under a dystopian hospital green-grey-ultra-white light, where there are no definite contours.
Young people are catching pearls in the ’80s, ’90s, or even before.
Something in our soul, as a human collective, was destroyed.
Burned by the always online.
No more lingering.
No more waiting to see each other.
Always present means never absent or far away.
Nothing is far away anymore.
We can fly off to go 15,000 km away.
Simple.
Just take a plane and it’s done.
But it feels like cheating.
At this game, we are losing our lifetime, cheating our way into an unsatisfying human history.
The times of the great desperation are here.
Nothing advances but only decay.
Nothing is new anymore.
It’s like an eternity where everything is rotting on its legs.
I really think that cigarettes were the fume of the train called society advancing on its tracks.
This eternity of meaningless wandering lost all its humanity’s flesh.
We are exhausted.
Dried.
Burned by the always online.
You have to disconnect the fridge from time to time to clean it...
but our soul...
is just a junkyard
and nobody has any idea what to do next.
Maybe this is the end of times.
My heart naked in full vision with a flashlight.
My lover is no more an ineffable queen
but a doctor with a scalpel and a headlight asking me:
“Open your mouth wide!”
We live in the times of the great whore, the pornographic times where you don’t see anymore what is public or what is private, what is decent and what is indecent.
We say “fuck” like “coffee.”
I don’t like these times.
You can hardly fall in love anymore.