What is Wrong with Us?
I hate our culture.
i hate that we have exchanged big ideas, even wrong big ideas, for fake tan and botox. i hate that our most powerful energies go into getting stuff - houses, cars, holidays, key rings with dead animals in. and here's the thing, we even know that this stuff won't last and won't do it for us when the next 'it' comes out. but what else it there to do?
i hate that wandering round london on a saturday night, all you see if humanity's resources being poured out to getting laid. people dressed to the nines in dresses and suits with italian names trying to dodge anonymity's grim reaper. and you see energy coursing around, eddying around bistro tables catching people up into moments of selfish difference. i is all. come and join the party but only if you get the game. but no-one really seems to know what everyone is doing.
and in one week live8 happens and london is bombed. even millions of 'those poor africans' dying and tens of londoners getting blown to pieces only gives us momentary pause, a brief respite from the games we play. someone needs to sound the hooter, or turn the lights out or flood the whole fucking court, because tommorrow brings more broken hearts.
tommorrow young girls will be told to starve themselves or face living with self-loathing. tommorrow whole countries will get ripped off by suits in shiny buildings talking the corporate language which might as well be ethnic cleansing. tommorrow women will get gang raped in god-forsaken countries where bush and blair don't give a damn because it's not in their interests.
how have we got here? how do we get out?
i hate that we have exchanged big ideas, even wrong big ideas, for fake tan and botox. i hate that our most powerful energies go into getting stuff - houses, cars, holidays, key rings with dead animals in. and here's the thing, we even know that this stuff won't last and won't do it for us when the next 'it' comes out. but what else it there to do?
i hate that wandering round london on a saturday night, all you see if humanity's resources being poured out to getting laid. people dressed to the nines in dresses and suits with italian names trying to dodge anonymity's grim reaper. and you see energy coursing around, eddying around bistro tables catching people up into moments of selfish difference. i is all. come and join the party but only if you get the game. but no-one really seems to know what everyone is doing.
and in one week live8 happens and london is bombed. even millions of 'those poor africans' dying and tens of londoners getting blown to pieces only gives us momentary pause, a brief respite from the games we play. someone needs to sound the hooter, or turn the lights out or flood the whole fucking court, because tommorrow brings more broken hearts.
tommorrow young girls will be told to starve themselves or face living with self-loathing. tommorrow whole countries will get ripped off by suits in shiny buildings talking the corporate language which might as well be ethnic cleansing. tommorrow women will get gang raped in god-forsaken countries where bush and blair don't give a damn because it's not in their interests.
how have we got here? how do we get out?
posted by chris at 11:55 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home