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2000-11-14 || 9.20p A letter for Monstre I read your page everyday, and sometimes find that it inspires in me the same frantic feelings as you get about losing that alternative edge we both used to have in such abundance. I think, though, that it's time for us to come to terms with the fact that for us, it's gone. It dissapears the moment you put your name to a paper with 'RRSP' at the top or sit down for the first time with a stock broker. For me, it was the moment stock options became a factor in choosing a job -- a career, not just a week-end shift where we'd earn enough money to buy rats or drinks, but rent appartments and buy cars, dream about things, I guess. Try to save our lives for once instead of spending our days with teeth gnashing at the preppie kids, dancing for all we're worth in the dark bars where the black-clad went, and fucking anyone who crossed our fancy. At one point, we have to stop kicking to-morrow, because to-morrow can kick back so much harder. These things are anathema to the dyed-in-the-hair Goth or the old skool Rudeboy skanking in the face of 'society'. These things also mark the moment, or even the microsecond, that Sphinxing with the goths morphs from the natural extention of a day to a reaction against the normalcy that we've let into our lives. I don't think you can fight these things, Monstre. You've taken steps you can't untake, and so have I. But instead of trying to claw our way back to the dark days when no-one mattered but us and our friends in Black, maybe we should just look back fondly at the years when we were brave enough not to be just another bumping and grinding anorexic Crescent Street whore in a camisole and platform shoes, talking about her hair like it was the Philosopher's Stone; just another jock in the advanced dance class but the remedial English lit course, sitting on the couch and watching as much TV as we can absorb. We will never be those people, and we have surrounded ourselves with a society that is apart from that scene, that remembers the way we used to live. But I don't think we will ever feel the same cold, raw blade that life used to hold to our throats. We have bled enough for armies, and we are marked by that for the rest of our lives. But the truth be told, I'm just not that angry anymore. |
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shite One last little note... - 09.21.2006 de-stressing, biking and terrorism - 06.06.2006 Mildly stressed... - 05.29.2006 More crime stupidity - 05.28.2006 Scary stuff - 05.25.2006
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