Music for mice. Acid for giants. Urban fairy tales for feather brains.

Friday, May 27, 2011

It doesn't look good or feel good - so arm the young.

I'm surprised by the statements, irretrievable in the ether, that are made by small adults. Miniatures, not fully formed, who want only to become impressions of what they feel are functioning beings. I thought this was a progressive generation.

It's not that I claim to have any wisdom. The opposite is true. Fear under certain lights looks like fearlessness. Knowledge of the rifts that make up the surface of the earth results in an uninterrupted line  around the sphere. I'm very comfortable in a state of puzzlement. I am a water baby. Nobody asks any questions. No one has a taste for the mystery. The vulnerability of choice is too frightening, nauseating. The young are fossilized.

Does this sound like boring old nihilism? A rejection of the institutions of society, the institutions of mine and prior generations, of culture? I hope not. I used to go on the same rants in high school -when children are at their dullest.

Our childhoods have been taken away from us, Marlene. Live it now. What do you have to lose?

I'm not in any hurry to be old or accepted. Especially if getting there means that the days turn into spokes and we are forced to cut the orange in half.

If you lead me, into sun soaked fields of tall grass, onto the cool concrete of an empty freeway, into the silk layers of blue that are the stuff of slow dreams, I will follow you, wherever you go.

"Youth is wasted on the young" and your big, beautiful eyes were wasted on you, child. Now lay down and don't believe anything any human being tells you.

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