It could start as a fairy-tale.
Just another urban 21st century fairy-tale where pumpkins are double-decked buses and the crystal shoes were replaced with an unknown brand of working footwear that randomly became trendy. Don’t get me wrong: I’m the guy who climbs the stairs to go on the top floor of the scarlet bus even when it is empty, and I also own a pair of fashionable and patterned working boots compensating for the lack of physical activity in my too sedentary life. Blame it on my age, blame it on the media, blame it on the dying originality and on the mourning period for the lost of our fellow Creativity.
It’s just the world we live in, the tale which can’t even pretend to be fairy in a society that forgot how to truly be anything.
It could be a nice and groomed letter, in a recyclable envelope, giving hope to everyone allowed to keep breathing. The real problem starts when being capable of breathing is even worst than a death sentence. Breathing is no more than the vehicle that allows us to be shallow. The motorized wheeled cage driving us incontestably into the futile; and the financial crisis is nothing but the responsible for the cuts on the brain-full area reserved for thoughts. Why shall we worry about having ideas if it is such an easy and smooth task to mug whoever is around us to get through?
It could continue as being an informative flyer of a secret society living upon different values. But which values? Which difference? The terms are mixed, confused and stirred on our own little human mess. Different is the new black, alternative became the synonym of vulgar and shock is not at all shocking these days – just a desperate shout of an attention seeker. Ripped trousers and hobo inspired looks walk side by side with haute couture dresses – and I didn’t write this as a visual metaphor to say the world raised itself to the highest equality behaviours.
It could be the menu of a quirky café introducing a whole new unthought lifestyle hidden in a muffin filling. But one no longer sits down on a coffee-shop just for the sake of it, the only reason they still exist is so the zombie night-owls can down their morning shots of caffeine to get through another hangover day. Alcohol is the new breakfast tea and drugs its fellow cucumber sandwiches. 5am is the new 5pm, wasted the new tipsy, plus no one feels peckish nowadays – it’s called the munchies; and if you feel sick, indisposed, or you’re in a bad mood it is most likely just a come down.
Yes, this could be a lot of interesting things – but it is not. It’s just me and my urge of writing down my random mind in a blog while others just need to drop off their clothes on the floor. You’ll probably never find an interesting article over here, it will be brimming with my thoughts on a sex-filled world where what you look like is more important than what you really are; my bits and pieces in a sadistic society where the conscience of death is just an excuse to do stupid things.
The 21st century – where an accidental death is the icing on the cake.