The youth preservation society

To start with ... youth … Baby calls them vegetarians … that’s just right … vegetarians … youth … the trouble with youth … they don’t have any aggression … no balls … no insatiable urge to get into shit … they have an inherent urge to be okay … to be without the anger that destroyed my generation … to be without fire … to be above it all … to be what we should have been but couldn’t … they just don’t have the balls … the trouble with youth … no self-destruction.

I’ve been reading … Celine … he writes … he writes like this … with ellipses … fragments … like pieces that make a whole … analatycical cubism … it catches on quickly … fast … you read … then think … then blog that way.

The cereal box … yesterday … it was Kellogg’s … Kellogg’s Honey Crunch Corn Flakes … I had nothing to say … like when you’re in a rhythm … thrusting … eyes wide … caught … like a dog humping, ridiculous and urgent … wide eyed, transfixed idiothumping … notimegoodidiothumping

Brought eyes (sic)

I downloaded my first album legally tonight. It was Bright Eyes’ “Cassadaga”. “Poison Oak” made me cry while shopping for washing machines and refrigerators in Broadway in Causeway Bay just over a year ago. That was pretty interesting.
Yesterday I had to go to a big law firm to check out their conference rooms for a photo job. It was just before lunch when I left and I got into a full elevator. Once inside I saw the doors were mirrors, and I got to look at myself surrounded by perfectly preened, young executives. I looked like shit. From my hair to my outfit to my self, I looked a mess. Not a Keith Richards kind of a mess; just an ugly, avoidable-person kind of mess.
You might not know this, but I was young once. I was aware at the time that older people envied me, that I had access to the little girls and the energy, and that one day it would be gone. I decided that I would enjoy it and when it was gone, well, to hell with it. I would embrace maturity, or drop dead if it got too hard. I’m bored of this topic already, but I’m still surprised every time I look in the mirror. Does it have to be over so quickly?

Youth sure was fun

Listening to the Velvet’s “Loaded” tonight while I draw I am reminded of all the drugs; all the incapacitating drugs that used to accompany long nights of work, until a night of drugs started meaning drawing would be impossible. Boy, youth sure was fun.