Tuesday, November 29, 2011
"We found our love in a hopeless place." -Rihanna
As dozens of young purposeful and purposeless people are drawn out of the occupation in the lower part of some of America's most culturally aware cities I sit before you a humbled man, modestly pensive and apprehensively optimistic, thankful.
Most, if not all of everybody is afforded the cellular ability to communicate and ask a voice belonging to someone that doesn't exist where they can buy their holiday gifts for friends and loved ones. We can find friends and loved ones instantaneously, without effort and vice versa. They can see what we're listing to, how we're feeling, where we're at, and if we are available for a brief conversation or a long romance.
You can't really get lost anymore, in a car, as a person.
One in five people meet their mate online. One in two people divorce. My divorced parents are having sex again because my dad's ex wife found her high school sweetheart on facebook and true love never dies. Obama won because you accepted his friend request, and Drake sold 650,000 copies of his album Take Care. He's Canadian.
None of this will change the fact that Mr. Rodgers is dead. The man who said things like, “If you could only sense how important you are to the lives of those you meet; how important you can be to the people you may never even dream of. There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person,” and “The world needs a sense of worth, and it will achieve it only by its people feeling that they are worthwhile.” He said that shit, yup, I know.
The thing is yes, there is less interpersonal communication. Catholics are now receiving their communion via an iphone/Android application that's been created and blessed by an actual priest. Ok, that's not true but if it were you'd believe it. We can talk to each other from two different continents and you can tell me that my slacks don't match my shoes in Indonesia while I'm in Chicago.
Romance. We are all starving for a romantic lifestyle filled with inspiration and afternoon coffee, with skylines that intrigue and people to love, words that never existed in our vernacular finding their way out our mouths and into the ears of someone who will cherish them. Living an artistic life, something worth writing about, something for others to write about, to tweet about or put on Page Six of the New York Post. Let's buy scarves and walk on cobblestone. Let's put on maroon pants and talk about what it would be like to be parents. Let's walk up to the ghost light in a huge theater at noon and deliver a monologue that never existed about someone who did or does. Let's start a fire in our hearts and in a campground. I'll meet you wherever you want to meet and do whatever you want to do. JUST BE THERE. I'll bring the hot chocolate and the spite. You bring some wide eyes and a match.
Check your facebook. Check your Gmail. See who's on g-chat. Lift weights. See what that kid you despised when you were 17 is listening to on spotify. See whom he's dating. Compare lives. Ignore phone calls. Remind yourself to jump for joy. Say hello to the mirror. Gain weight. Drink hot beverages. Grow a beard. Fall in love. Don't cheat, cheat allot. Look in your closet for things you've lost. Look on your hard drive for things you've found.
"All media exist to invest our lives with artificial perceptions and arbitrary values."
I studied him in college.
"You don't lead by pointing and telling people some place to go. You lead by going to that place and making a case."
I met him in my college. He told me to cause as many revolutions as I could. I am.
Why am I quoting minds of people I respect? Why do I write all this ridiculous prose? Ladies and gentlemen I'm alive and willing to show that to you. That there are bounds and leaps and mountains in this brain that only exist to show you what’s in yours.
Some people are too rich to listen to, and some people are too poor to take seriously. Some people disregard their feelings and have much regard for others. Some wars will never end and music will always make kids dance. That's the most important thing going on around the world right now, aside from global warming and the Mayan Calendar ending, kids-are-dancing. Thousands and thousands of kids are marching into warehouses and into the desert with fur on their feet and smiles on their faces, ready to close their eyes open their hearts, tie their shoes tight ands hop up and down till the sun come up. I know, this sounds crazy and Utopian. People have their heads buried on their ex's facebook walls, and idol's blogposts five days a week, but two days a week kids are holding hands, and getting crazy again. Wasn't that what the pilgrims were doing?
We aren't defeating ourselves. We're just changing. The rich still have a fascination with what comes from poor black men. Cuba is lightening up a little. President Clinton is sorta still in office. AIDS still exists, but you can live with it now. Yea, the world might end this year. I doubt it. The world, like us, is always dying. It's not a sad thing. It's just a fact. What will you do with your time? Who will you hold when you hold them? How many conversations will you hold? Will you hold a tune? Will you hold a strangers hand? Can you give me a hand? I'm going to come by and try to change the world with my new smile. Thanks for tuning in.