first it was the news of chester bennington's death, and then a video of a broken-sounding/looking aaron carter apologising for how he looks now. for the latter, we were so youthful once, and loved. to have tasted the pinnacle and then feeling like it's now gone forever... isn't it painful?
within the span of that hour, i am reminded of how so many things degrade. the golden age of islam. idealistic communes. the printing press' birthing as the voice for the working class. or more recently, the internet - that seem the bypass the eventual role of the printing press - is being encroached upon again. that juxtaposition of the hopeful utopia that happens at first and then its inevitable descent; with all that is left to see is a gangrene rapidly growing. maybe the memory of glory days is enough of an anchor of What Things Could Be, even if its existence is a brief flash in the night. darkened and diseased, we still fumble our way in pain, its pure form driving us on and on, even if reality shows otherwise.
and youth. oh, how i used to think we were meant for something bigger. that one is special. what a crockshit that is. is this how we comfort ourselves?
maybe this is why the japanese worship youth. there is magic in it. you're on the ascent.
oh much of these isn't truth set in stone, but a hippo could have her pessimistic moments, couldn't she?