Sunday, March 20, 2011

Splintered Chopsticks and Alpha-Getti

What is it with the present day youth? Since when did everything spiral and funnel into a black and white generation of minnowed depravity? I mean, I don’t consider myself of the elderly and sometimes you could find me lurking in dark corners of bars and lounges appearing lacklustre in the mature department, but I can already see the next gene-pool developmentaries between the likes of childhood and maturity to be quite wearisome. Is it my lack of understanding? Or is it the educational system or media that is responsible for the suspension of the individual thought process thus packing their judgment into jars turning them into time constrained, bipolar, deficient drones?

When did I become so old? So outdated?

The youths of today are seemingly becoming attention deficient changing thoughts and swinging emotions as quickly as they can change their social networking profile picture which, and I empathize, is pretty goddamn fast. I have truly become a relic at my quarter plus age (mid-life crisis has been replaced with quarter-life disambiguation. Post Quarter Life Crisis.) Coincidently, the queens language has now develop into a tedious proto-English idiom geared towards proficiency that is the masqueraded “norm” and is an abomination of everything literary. So what do we do? Keep writing in this archetype-everything-acronymic fashion, mumbling and beating each other until the end of days? Or is there a cure, you know, like the one they have for depression for example. Pop few subscription happy pills and the winter blues become winter FUCK I FEEL GREAT. Viagra for the grey matter. The mental masturbation placebo if you will. What ever happened to the complexities and the originalities of the simple things like casual conversation? Or sharing ones multifaceted opinions whether over the absolute forgiveness of Michelangelos’ “The Drunkenness of Noah” painting or the controversial medicinal values of wild rice? Is tomato a fruit or a vegetable? What on earth is happening in Libya? How is Vladimir Nabakovs’ writing so alluringly wicked yet so filled with texture? It seems that the present vernacular is being broken down and condensing into the menial level of totidem verbis (in so many words) or non-words, or acronyms, or no words to that effect.

“If youth only knew, if age only could.”

Maybe. Christ. Maybe I’m looking at this incorrectly. I mean, when I was in the developing stages of life, I also adopted a certain talk or jargon that only my peers and the surrounding youth would understand. This might possibly be the new-wave or new world of "slanguage" that is systemically resourceful within the current day English and rather then rant about it, I should just accept it. Just be at peace with it and follow the rest of the herd. Incorporate the lmao’s and the ttyl’s into my writing. Or….or should I resist and fight the good fight? I dwell in perpetual confusion…that I obviously invite and loathe but invite nonetheless.

And as the wheels turn late into the night, I lay restless and awake forever drowning in a sea of wordplay and greasy hats. Lots of greasy hats.

“At what age do you tell the highway that it was adopted?” Zach Galifianakis

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