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Today: poetry-always-true-always-faithful.
Internalized meaning — the only way to resist external meanings: the meanings imposed on us by a crass, commercial society/culture.
I turn 29 in a few weeks — in other words: I line up at the edge of 30. The fact is unbelievable to me. I feel at once older and younger, but not 30. 30 is for someone else. 30 is someone else’s age — not mine.
I can’t help but find my generation deadly boring. Tech-jocks and corporate management and so on — people who think spending a lot of money on ‘drinks’ after work is a sign of success and maturity. It’s a generation of people pretending to be adults; who have never really matured in a meaningful way.
It’s always strange to go to someone’s apartment and see that it’s filled with alcohol and video-games; doesn’t have any books — where the TV is the dominant presence.
If you reverse engineer everyone’s subway commute, you end up back at home: where the commute begins. So what does it mean to wake up every day in a culturally blank place; an emotionally infantile room?
