More terrible beauty

'We're trapped by too many words. There's nothing left to say. Any idea that you might have has already been drained. Our epidemic, our lackluster choice, our lack of choice, our choice to ignore, our ignorance, our treeless cement and rows on rows of what and who and not much at all. Our endless two-lanes, treachorous alleys, and that eery, unnatural glow. Our washed up, beat up, burned out days and our drunken, slothen, senseless nights. Its all been said. Its all been written. There are no hopes, only cliches, the odd plagiary if you're willing to try. But even that's too much work for what you get. All that's left is reality and this stubborn economy of life.'

'But surely there must be something new?'

'I don't know. I don't think so. You need change for that. We don't have change. We've created stability. Stability to preserve our economy of life. Blah. Boring. Stability. We stretch and claw. These half hearted attempts at sex and drugs and money and power and something, anything, anything new. But even that has all been done. Its not new. Sex is old. Drugs are stale. Power's an illusion and money is passe. Its all been done. All of it. I want something new. Something to grab onto as my own. Something I've created.'

'There's nothing?'

'Not that I can see.'

- posted by Sigurd9/12/2004 03:34:00 PM