beatnik

Every single story my father has ever told me has been depressing. His stories of divorces, law-suits, friends who fucked up, former wives, illegitimacies...

It is my belief that we, the 13-25 year olds, are the fecal remnants of a gluttonous generation who gorged on free love, drugs, war, chaos, and confusion. We are left in the wake of this to bloom in soil stained with inherently regretful and unhappy blood.

I feel, in my struggle to grow with a mind of fairness, without prejudice or predispositions, that I am at the whim of a generation decaying from 50 years of mistakes and willfully slaughtering any chance to pass on a culture of tolerance by transfering this regret into their actions and disciplines of our youth.

As a former generation recedes into obscurity, leaving behind the sulfurous stench of it's own mistakes and misfortunes, we (the American social culture) move forward, headstrong, with a sentiment of violence, vanity, and merchandising. That the problems we've inherited can be amplified into popularity, solved with violence, and sold to millions so we can feed on it every morning when we wake up.

Put on your band t-shirts, fuck George W., and slit your wrists before the popcorn is done.

I'm not sure why my dad tells me depressing stories. Maybe he's trying to turn them into cautionary tales to lead me away from making my own mistakes.

For a second there, I thought I'd almost destroyed everything you've fought so hard for. Thank goodness for your continuing help.

Go on about your lives. If they can't solve our problems, I'm pretty sure we can.



Is there a place for dreamers and hopeless romantics anymore? I fucking hope so... I'm not letting go of that as long as I live.