Gen-X (DBA/Doing Business As) the MTV Generation

“What do you say about a generation that has been taught that rain is poison and sex is death? If making love might be fatal and if a cool spring breeze on any summer afternoon can turn a crystal blue lake into a puddle of black poison right in front of your eyes, there is not much left except TV and relentless masturbation. It’s a strange world. Some people get rich and others eat shit and die.”

Nice manners babe. This was quoted by Hunter S. Thompson regarding my generation “X” who came of age in the 80’s and are now at that middle-of-the-crossroads known as too young to be old and too old to be young, more widely referred to as, ahem, middle age. Yes, we grew up with Donald and Ivana and their gold-plated he-with-the-most-toys mantra. Sure, we never dared have sex without a condom or delved too deeply into reversing the damage we were doing to the environment with our clove cigarettes and aerosol hairspray.  Absolutely, we did drugs and made money because that’s what we were told we were supposed to be doing on the glossy pages of magazines and Just Say No pamphlets.

In 1985 when I was sixteen I remember seeing The Breakfast Club with a bunch of friends and thinking that if we were to go beyond the age of eighteen there was nowhere to go but down.  Now that I’m 48 and catch myself in constant deep loathing (no fear) of the Millennials that crowd the coffee houses of what makes up society now, I wonder if this prolonged evolutionary ascent into adulthood makes me, by default, out of touch with the present, which is basically pre-future, eyes looking forward to something better that what is now.

Perhaps I’m feeling a little crazed by the 20-something elitists of the day because I’ve gone back to school at NYU for a Masters Writing Program and am forced (the proverbial gun to my head held by me) to actually empathize with a broad spectrum of viewpoints ranging from minute to grandiose and the possibility that maybe some of these ideas and theories about why things are the way they are are actually semi-valid (semi is the word of the day; use it in conjunction with anything to keep yourself on the fence of commitment).

Like, not all of these little turpukoids are as annoying as I thought they would be and actually don’t cringe at the abuse I am willing to thrust upon them with my sarcastic genius and world-wearing zero f*cks squinted indifference.  Aside from being pretty to look at, the untarnished optimism of 20-somethings, however ridiculous, can be infectious to the moment, causing me to re-think old ideas and delve into the grey area of possibilities. I knew going back to school at this point in time would be a test of my endurance for bullshit, knowing-what-I-know-now and all that. But fuck it, right? I’m here in NYC, world on a string, etc. Can’t find a real estate deal to save my ass but as Ronan Farrow says… that’s life. Or, like, that’s life.

My promise to keep current on this medium has been broken as it’s been two weeks since I wrote about the Julian Kay connection to Less Than Zero. It’s not that I am not inspired it’s just that the days seem to fly by and by the time the sexparty starts I’ve used up all my worthwhile brain cells. So I won’t make any promises about anything to anyone.

<sticking my tongue out>

My 15 year sobriety anniversary is in two days and it kind of makes me a little sad that I don’t have regular meetings to go to anymore. And just when I was starting to feel the comfort in my skin thing. All these things I should be doing that I don’t. Brings me back to my Gen-X theme. Me, me, me. That’s the ticket.

At 48 I still feel 17 most of the time and I’m grateful for that.  The sacrilegious beauty of working out every day in the David Barton gym church in the old Area Limelight where… yeah I know you’ve heard this before but I’ll say it again… I saw Andy Warhol in 1987, brings a bit of nostalgic guerrilla antagonism to my nihilistic impassiveness. Translation, looking back sometimes helps me look forward. Living in the moment can sometimes be a weight too heavy to lift.

Ooh, a gym-related metaphor, so ssssssssexy.

Like, totally.

giphy-1

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s