May 2012
“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” - Friedrich Nietzsche
SWANSEA by JOANNA NEWSOM
The Killers | “When You Were Young”
"You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy
To save you from your old ways."
alittlebitofeverythingglorious:
Not in Love ft. Robert Smith | Crystal Castles
Youth isn’t defined by the contours of dance clubs or how many inanimate connections you can amass. It ain’t in the “fun” your wacky aunt implores you to have. It ain’t the cock holding of a night on the town with “the bros.” Your youth isn’t inscribed in Sex in the City martini hour dialogue. Or an extended time to find yourself through mutual usury and the cartoonish trappings of “being 20 something.” It’s not a time series of numbing your heart, learning the art of dispassionate association. Those are the accoutrements of boredom.
Your youth is fleeting, and the minute we prescribe to cartoonish renditions of “young, wild, and free,” we lose, catapulting us into dispassionate adulthood. Managerial mastery of networking. We lose a chance to cultivate deeper connections and curiosity: the spinal chords of youth—what it really means to be wild. Replaced them with a nasty parody. The rendition of youth used to sell CBS sitcoms with laugh tracks and Spring Break shots. An impoverished rendition of youth, safe and prescribed, de-clawed. Most importantly, a “youth” that expires under its own weight.