In a data driven
world where it is possible to so comprehensively think and feel so
many different things in an ever diminishing span of time, it's
increasingly difficult to pick one idea for which it's worth getting
out of bed in the morning. This might be caused by a childish loss of
the ability to concentrate (which is easy enough to blame on 'the
internet' just as it was on 'the television', 'the radio' and 'the
paintings on the wall', rather than seeking the cause in our own
personal failings and primitive need for quick slaps of
quasi-cerebral occupation), or it might be that, in general, ideas
are so diffuse and large swathes of the culture so homogenised that
distinct ideas no longer possess the laser-like ability to energise
in the way that they once did.
So, one may wake up, have,
achieve, do fun, and
then sleep, perchance to dream, with little
source of lobo-motive
energy but pre-packaged
plastic packeted slates of creatively perverted
carbohydrate. There is as much negative to be said about this cycle
as there as positive. There is as little left to preach of it as
there is vitamin D currently
being pressed through my
veins. (So
many people cared and feared for me and
my paper white skin, eighteen
months ago, when overloading
yourself with as much vitamin
D as you could possibly take
became a strange
source of Great
British Pride until
kale turned up at the
bottom of an aeropress and ruined things for everybody
who'd got it
all so
right, so far.)
And
I guess that's kind of what I'm talking about. The
world I see that
runs rampant in screens and speakers
is a
flat plate of boring ideas,
executed largely by
pretenders, mainly for
people whose primary interest is themselves and how selfless and
nu-new-age they can appear to be to
others while
buying
clothes made by slaves and paid
for, with quivering and fearful hands, over a counter attended to
by either
a tax-dodger or
a pseudo-socialist
so pierced that they whistle
when it's windy.
But
perhaps that satirically emphasised point of view is just my own, if that makes it more easy
to discard.
Hurrah,
then, for a new energy in the Phoria camp, so we might at least
attempt to avoid this fate of cookie-cutter
drudge and despair and
perhaps break through
to something a bit different.
New
shit. New shit. New
people and things and ideas. New music. New directions. We're having
discussions
where we bash our heads against each other more
hard than before to try and
come up with something that'll
work. We're all sensitive
folk, and we're all finding our way, but we
all see that
we've been sucked into this particular breadth of the temporal vacuum
where relevance is more relative than it ever has been before; where
age and work
can be more easily packaged and sold; where the ability to energise
others with whatever you're
doing can be achieved more
succinctly, through a million
different channels all at once, and
in a million new ways.
Whether
it will all amount to water and ash is something we will have to deal
with as it comes, but for now the mere
promise of doing something
new, whatever it might be,
is getting us going, and giving us a little glint in our eyes, and
making us look forward to the future.
Let's
see what will happen today.
I'll
probably fall asleep in an hour. All this energy is tiring me out.
Tim
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