(This is one I wrote not too long ago. It's angry and terrible and full of naughty words! Please read it and tell me how much you loathe it!) We were trespassing, my friend and I, in one of the few peaceful tracts of land left in Easton. It is the remains of a train station that now serves as little more than an occasional hangouts for skaters who never actually ride their boards, and would-be gangsters anxious for everyone to see how illegibly they can write their name. The station itself isn't the story here, nor is it even where we were doing our trespassing. But walking along the station gives you access to a little mountain. It has a million names, and I think every band of teenage adventurers to 'discover' it has heralded it as something new. Everyone knows it as that mountain by the overpass with a faded coke logo painted on the side. It isn't huge in any dimension, but manages to jut up above the rest of the skyline. If you risk the ire of bored cops too scared or crooked to deal with the soaring crime rates, you can hike up from the train tracks along the slightly overgrown paths and come out on a reasonably flat, bare stretch of rock that gives you one of the best views in our little Lehigh Valley. On our way up there, or while we were up there, or maybe on the way down..or whenever the hell it came up; we got to talking. We talked about a chapter of our past called 'Nerdcore'. Nerdcore was some kind of mish-mash nerd illuminati that was a little bit about skipping class to play Magic, a little bit about prank calling 1-800 numbers and saying nothing but the word 'Cactus', and a lot about doing everything in our mighty geek powers to tear down all the 'cool' stuff around us in the social landscape. Nerdcore got kinda big, spawned a website and a magazine and t-shirts and all sorts of things. But enough of the history lesson, it's a goddamn bore and you've probably powerscrolled right past all this anyway. Point is that it was a good six or seven years ago and has pretty much entirely dissolved. When my friend and I got to talking about it, we came to an abrupt realization that pretty much froze us in our steps. Back then when we were out to tear down the 'cool' and elevate the freaks? We fucking won. Not precisely he and I, but the whole movement. We did it, alright, and we didn't know how stupid we were. Now girls are wearing 'Talk Nerdy to Me!' t-shirts, ever frat house full of slack jawed douchebags who wear knit hats even in searing heat are playing video games all day and night, every goddamn group of tone-deaf teenagers is pumping out a thousand albums of insipid rock meant to sound 'indy' while being produced with multi-million dollar equipment, every nook and cranny of the internet is full of cunts tripping over themselves in an attempt to prove how edgy and ironic and apathetic they are, and all the while big business, big media, and big politics are skull-fucking us 24/7 with marketing slogans and obedience training. So here we are. There is no cool left, there is no uncool left. We're all in the same fucking boat - a billion or so people trying to prove how different and unique they are by acting just like everyone else. The other five billion or so? They're living in filth, disease, and poverty - living simple, short, brutal lives in all those places we don't like to think about while we're busy fucking twittering about REALLY important stuff. So now what? Where do we go from here? Maybe this is the natural course of things and it's all for the best. When I'm on a rant like this I generally get looked at like I'm from fucking Mars, so maybe that's it then. But when I look around, I don't like what I see too much. So my answer? Tear it all down. The cool and uncool alike, the hip and square, the freaky and the norm - because it's all become the same monotonous blurry social vomit and it is hitting critical mass. Who knows if it'll do any good, but at this point what choice do we have? Not many roads left lead toward any kind of Age of Aquarius, and I'm starting to sympathize with Mr. Orwell when he said his vision of the future was "A boot stamping down on a human face forever". I don't know how, don't ask me. For my part, I can't seem to stop fucking writing lately. While I realize it's mostly detritus I figure a pearl or two might fall out along the way. I'm gonna write and not give it a rest, be it a bathroom stall or a sidewalk or this blog or a hundred cheap notebooks. And to those who know who they are - whatever comes out of this is your bloody fault.
Sounds to me like you've been in the urban jungle too long. Go climb a mountain. "To the pure, all things are pure, so the people say. But I say to you, to the swine, all things are swinish!" -- Friedrich Nietzsche
If you're going to be the equivalent of a stalker/heckler; get some new material. I recommend making fun of my hair(it's really, really bad) or my pretentious signature pic.
