#Ism

For a long time it’s been clear it will be difficult to suppose another “ism” in art that is universally acknowledged. I guess it’s simply because the world and everything happening in it can be accessed as quickly as it is forgotten.

There’s a dating website where people flick through possible suitors as if they’re on a supermarket shelf. I mean, that’s really not cool. Why anyone would willingly reduce themselves to a product…if your labels or branding don’t catch the eye, to the bargain bin you go!

That’s one of the problems of contemporary life; we forget substance and it’s too often abused and never used.

I guess one of my problems is that I’m an observer as well as a participant and I find it difficult to sift through the muck. Lots of people are media-savvy, which is good, but this also blurs the understanding in how time is necessary to create something meaningful.

I thought I’d die, willingly, at 27. Join that club, you know? And then 27 came quicker than I ever did, and I’m now 38. I’m middle aged. I’ll definitely be middle-aged on 1st February 2016 if the tattoo on my neck and my year of birth has anything to do with it: 77.

Now I hope I live until at least my 70s without being affected by some form of illness that renders me incapable of thought and loving action (ahem). If I am, I’ll find whatever I need to see it out with a huge fucking smile on my face, but I’ve always said I’ll do that anyway.

Contrary to what many people say, Life is a party and you’re the fucking host. Welcome the guests and make sure they have a good time too.

If that ain’t an ism, it fucking should be.

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