Point of view would require looking at the world, a bitter proposition to anybody who’s ever tried it. Hard truths. Hard addictions. All the same after a while. Your eyes blur and the mind rebels. If it isn’t, you’re probably not paying enough attention to begin with. Country’s a bitch that’ll eat your balls even if you don’t have them. Don’t know ho what’s possible. Then again, don’t know how it’s possible for an entire generation to grow up without a perceivable point of view, but that’s how it’s going. Segmented subculture fragmented to the consistency of sand. No collective drive. No point of order. No point, even. That’s probably the answer, right? No point equals no point of order. Everybody’s passed off the future as a steady progression of technology and social Darwinism. We sit at home with our computers waiting for tomorrow’s world, discontent and eating the chips and the salsa. It’s no wonder this generation has so many jokes about caffeine, squirrels, and other spastic agents; ADD is no more. It is no longer the disorder. It is the norm.
It’s far from the end of days (I hope) but still, I did grow up hoping that I’d get my crack at a good, solid Woodstock instead of this set of juvenile bickering.
In other news, I rented the third Pirates of film just to round out my viewing of the season. After my experience with watching Spiderman 3, I’m expecting this one to cause me actual physical pain.