Some of us have a major journalistic advantage and a major emotional disadvantage of seeing things in a broader perspective. Which generally means that whether we like it or not we know the long term differences and changes in the world around us. Since we know the past like it was yesterday, there’s no way to avoid comparison. Resistance is futile. The process doesn’t happen willingly or consciously, it just does. Sometimes it simply clicks, sometimes it creeps on you slowly, maybe comes in a wave or in a flashback. The trick is you can’t stop it, but you can predict it.
It could just be me, I know that. Because in trying to resolve the issue, I haven’t managed to take out one variable from the equation yet. Despair. And I strongly believe that such comparisons don’t exist in a happy world nor in a world where big changes aren’t for the worse, or – on an individual level – where one’s life hasn’t gone astray and wondered into some form of idle running, waiting for the end.
Compared to the starry nights of the nineties, nowadays, most young people don’t even look up. The magic of life is narrowed down to partying in clubs and open air festivals, while everything else is transition from one such fix to another. The disconnection with life is crucial. It comes with the territory. The world has been reducing the ammount of personal in everything and raising the amount of impersonal for years. The most common personal gestures today and the only time people in this country get very personal very fast and very often are insults. Everything is turning from sane humane premises, the human touch, to formalities, inhumane following of written word, regardless of the person inside. People are reduced to numbers and price tagged. Even music follows the trend. Robotic voices and electronic sounds, lyrics made of humming or lalala don’t exactly express much of a band or a singer. That’s normal. Personalities are gone. The touch is gone. Distance is king now.
It’s no wonder ALL women at a party wear high heels and miniskirts. They stumble like young calf in those shoes, but they have to wear it – it’s PR and public image. Some look like they were made in Madamme Toussauds museum, but hey – it’s public image. Their mind only registers the hunky guys that look like something out of a fitness magazine. The men worth mentioning according to popular media. And that’s what they are. They’re spitting images of people in the movies and superficial magazines. The hotshots that drive fast, drive angry, party hard, solve problems with violence, and drink till they do a lot of damage and drop. These primitive people appearantly don’t have a critical mind to distinguish between real life and fiction, or the brains not to mimic fiction in reality. Africa: Look what happens when you give weapons to primitive people. Slovenia: Look what happens when you give mass stupid media to primitive people. But they have an enormous ego, and that’s why they don’t try to fly or become superheroes, but they love to absorb and mimic characters that exhibit a lot of ego, because idiots will always look for ways to boost their egoes. A bald head like Vin Diesel’s will help. A pimped car, too. 200 kph driving gives an edge. Acting like an alpha male of a pack of chimpanzees at a club would also do the trick. Especially, if it involves showing off how much you can drink. And spill on the floor. And spill on other people. …
Nobody cares about the person inside now. It’s the presentation on the outside that gets the attention, but it has to be satisfying in terms of personal benefits to your “viewers”. The individual has turned into a mass media outlet, going for ratings rather than truth. But in today’s world, you only have two options. Go with the flow, or decide to be human and be alienated from the world in which you live. These are hard times for humans, fun times for intoxicated minds. Sorry, if I prefer to live my life, not something my mind conjures up in a fake trance. Yes, even if it’s FUBAR. If I want twisted reality, I only have to go to sleep and dream.
A music referrence: J-Lo symbolically turns the Lambada song of the sane nineties that meant something back then to a club dance song of the 2000s singing about “the new generation of party people”, telling them to “grab somebody, drink a little more”. See how values change? That’s who you are now.
These people enjoy life, drink away, party, and when they destroy things, it’s because they like it. Because it makes them feel great. It’s not a goddam reaction to any political turmoil, which is what we keep hearing from people who are obviously so removed from the generations of young hooligans that they don’t see what their mentality is all about. Ten-year-olds sure as hell don’t express their political beliefs. And I don’t think a manic laugh, toungue showing, shaking heads and beastly screams – the kind you see in hardcore football fans – are a picture of a politically affected protester.
Capitalism, popular culture and the “new” morals are all about the ego, screwing other people over without second thought, guilt, or moral objections. Working for your own benefit on every step and getting there over dead bodies. In our country, it’s a daily game of who will screw over who. There’s a lot of screwing going on here! A lot of shady business, a lot of screwing all over the place on every level. Yap, quite a big whore house! These people made a routine and a valued skill of finding how to get away with crime without any consequences. It’s a national sport of trampling over human rights, worker’s rights, of robbing people and exploiting them to gain wealth and live happily ever after. This is the criminal’s mekka.
And don’t EVER tell me this country’s not well off. Most people earn pretty good money, but their mentality prevents them from creating a system where money would be equally distributed, not only tunelled into their pockets for – of course – personal pleasure. Remember, it’s the “me” that’s important. Egotistical capitalism is the new democracy. We’re used to it on a global scale. Picture it on a scale of Manhattan.
An hour at the city pool
“Yeah, on Monday I’m going back to Spain for some surfing, to get in shape,” a bit dishevelled man tells his friends. You know what I do when I need to get in shape? I go cycling 20km not surfing in Spain!!!
Two minutes later, different guy, about the same age – twentysomething: “Under 20k a month I don’t consider a career. Thousand, two thousand a month is nothing.”
How about 180/month? Where’s that in your book? The conversation continued with a discussion on how many people can afford a big swimming pool in front of their house, how swimming pools aren’t expensive etc.
What followed was an hour of listening where people have been for the summer. Not from one person, but from many. And finally, a word about a woman whose father lives somewhere abroad and stacks her with money, along with 5,000 eur purses etc.
Hm… Yeah, we’re poor. Let’s destroy the country.
Social criticism aside, there comes a point when you run out of words to fight either outside world or the one inside. There’s no more words describing the feeling of empty dark summer streets when 80% of everybody else are enjoying life somewhere on the streets of seaside towns bustling with life, people living in a rich world, in every sense of the word. It’s impossible to comprehend and come to terms, no matter how you discuss it with yourself, the path your life has taken, the dead-end you’ve reached. In fact, there’s nothing left to say to the stories you document, especially not on a blog. It’s just useless when you know you can’t fight the ignorance, the world of narrowed interest, based mostly on some close personal benefit. It’s important that you still produce stories, but any socially critical rants are highly redundant in the new world. Any personal rants are even more absurd.
A popular Slovenian writer wrote a collumn on how this country is trying to build and promoting a society based on drinking. The propaganda is present on every step. They’re as pushy as door-to-door salesmen. He gave an example of a billboard ad for a popular beer that’s directly saying it. He condemned it. So did many of his readers. Thousands of people read that collumn and agreed on the criticism. Today, the country is again full of these billboards, because people are back from holidays, the young are back for school. They shrugged off criticism. What have we learned? It’s yet another sign that the politics of “let’s-get-everybody-drunk-so-they-won’t-complain” is prevailant in this country. This mentality has such a majority that they can consider criticism like that a voice of the minority, shrug it off, and shamelessly continue their propaganda. This exact reason (having the majority) gives their “party” (what a convenient name for the followers of the being-drunk-whenever-possible culture) a pass on all the innocent people killed on the road by drunk drivers. Don’t mention it and move on, “drink a little more”.
So why mention it? Nobody cares. And in a situation where things are wrong in other fronts as well, why waste time and energy. Anyway, there comes a time when it’s all over. When so much has accumulated, twisted and turned, churned and rolled, mixed and spiraled, simmered and conjoined, that there’s nothing left to say. No words to describe it or to fight it, or to alleviate it, make sense, see the purpose. This blog was originally intented to host text and photos, but the 25-30 people reading it is hardly a reason to keep it in this form. Especially when time is not on my side, and words don’t come easy anymore.
Which is why this blog will only rarely be updated. A new one might turn up, a design of only one photo and a bit of text. Not likely though, considering the lack of interest.