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 Latest
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Diaryland |
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2004-01-21 - 3:30 p.m. It seems like a whole universe out there I don't give a fuck about anymore. I used to live for alot of things. You know, I was one of those kids that lived for the witty T-shirt slogan. Rocking trucker hats as early as '98 and the thick frame glasses as early as '93 or '94. I ranted and raved about kitsch, I had an early fascination with blaxploitation. Man, I lived for Kungfu theater. I loved them comic books before there was a million people making comic books. I picked up a guitar. I caught on to scratch DJing just right before anyone gave a fuck about it. What didn't I do to stay up with the times? That's what life was about. Staying 4 steps ahead of the culturally saavy. Trailblazer?!? No, because if I was, I wouldn't feel like a social dinosaur in so many areas. Now, i'm wondering, did I decide to drop out the race OR am I again onto yet another wave before it crests? Either way, I get bitter in a way and with every second the world assimilates more and more into a glob of generic, I wonder if it's all shit or if it's even worth it to fight? I went with Nikc to Normal's books the other day. It wasn't the first time we've been there, either. We were shocked that our silly picture, seen here was up on the cork board as you walk into the store. Anyways, we just dismissed each other as "big top clowns" and dispersed amongst the great books and music throughout the store. Quite possibly, Normal's is one of the greatest stores I've ever been to. I hardly even read books and they're not-so-large music selection is the best in all of Baltimore when it comes to vinyl. The place is truly a jewel and has a certain ambience that cannot compare to anything you've ever seen. I told Nikc, if a store like this didn't exist, this would be the store we would be opening in the future. Nikc even went so far in saying that the store was a personification of who he is. You look at the walls and you see why. Everything I lived for is up on the walls. Crazy Tammy Faye Baker records, a poster of Willie Dynamite, old crazy jazz and funk records. Pictures of clowns. Books and zines, new and old dealing with everything. Unrefined, dirty, there for you to ingest like a shock of finding out of all things cool in a sudden epiphany. The place is as much as a museum of underground pop culture as it is as a music and book store. All up on the walls like a TGI Friday's decor style minus the harmless tacky bullshit. Now, years of my life can be summed up in only a part of a store. Which is oh so comforting....but then you realize: It's like you spent all this time toiling over gardens and hunting for food and then after you toil and toil and eat all the bullshit failure, the heartache, the pains.....you look behind you and see a Supermarket. Everything you fought for basically is and has always been there and you went tearing ass throughout your life to be "hip" and uncatergorized and all of a sudden you realize, it's the least of your worries. You see the same shit over and over and I still see people my age and older grasping desparately and holding on to what all of a sudden becomes senseless to you. You want to say something, it angers the shit out of you sometimes to make you rant off, and you can't help but feeling like the equivalent of a bitter 80s hair band rock star about all that you've been toiling over can be bought and sold so easily without lifting a mental or physical finger. And you wonder? Do those people consider what they are as "hard-earned" and "deserved?" It's all relative is the only thing you find yourself saying, but you're really bitter. You're really hanging on desparately to what you think is the right way for all things and you realize that the doppleganger hipster is saying the same things back to you. Who's the better for it? Who's the worse for it? Have you graduated because you fell and love and wanted to make babies and live the American Dream? "Where's the soul?" As any self-proclaimed hip-hopper would say. Who is to measure? All anyone wants to hear is what they want and what they need to hear. No one wants truth persay, they just want to hear you say it. Is there anything wrong with looking for the quickest way out? I can't blame people who want to explore outside themselves. I can't blame people who live for the simplest of comforts and warm bodies to lay next to at night. I wish I could say I owe it all to jesus, my family and friends or to the girl I fell in love with. I wish for all those things, but something keeps telling me that there's more to it. Beyond what you think of me, what I think of you, and what we all think of each other. I wish I could just tell you so we could comfort each other. People can't help to say I quit. but if I called it quits, I would be long dead by now.
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