over evolved / cloaked in drama.
I’m having trouble writing about myself. It is not that I can’t put my life into words, more that it goes by with such drama and speed it is difficult to hang on to it and get it down. Short sentences. Quick fingers, tell it like it is - so they all said, “Beauty and art come from truth, honest expressions of souls.”
“You’re Gay!” others will say.
“No, I am metro-celibate.” I shall proudly respond.
Four sentences with four things from the last four weeks: I took a diving catch low down to my left fielding at shortleg to dismiss a batsman for a golden duck. I took a picture of myself giving a two-finger salute to the White House. I took a £10,000 loan out over the Internet without meeting a single human face then cancelled it an hour later. I took cover from one of my best mates and my ex-girlfriend, who just got back from a year in Australia; where they miraculously ended up together. If I needed a fifth example: I took back my MP3 player to my electronic retailer for the third time this year.
And people say all I do is give.
My case: Supposedly living the height of civilisation, modernity and evolution I have been gifted with a generous, if not extravagant upbringing and education in the home counties of England. Turning 21 and graduating in the year 2000, I was raised through Thatcher and Blair by my divorced Mother under the reign of QEII.
Many humans throughout the world and all of history would look at the technologically and industrially enriched, even manicured life I have lead and long for it, perhaps in place of their own existance. Increasingly though it seems, I care less and less for our continual advancement - we have already come too far - too quickly. I claim to be part of an over evolved generation; it makes one unhappy because the advertised world we were raised on is not ready for us, nor seemingly will it ever be. No wonder there are many that realise this truth and simply give up. My work here is to explain, through the sum total of my own education and life experience, the plight of the C21st man. How the luxury of modern life breeds unhappiness in model male citizens, as they make their way through it.
To put forth an initial thesis, I blame Darwin and Freud. The former for my ability to observe the complexities of my own modernisation and evolution; the latter for my analysis and explanation of my place in this civilisation. My understanding of the process of putting my modern life in to words comes from a more cotemporary range of literary, philosophical and metaphysical backgrounds, HH The Dalai Lama, C. Bukowski, D. Adams, HS Thompson, to throw some names out with considered abandonment. You may know none of them, it could be argued that the correct one is still currently living, but it is not a debate that I, nor any of those fine gentlemen, would get involved in.
metro-celibate – Despite the fact I’m attempting write poetry for a living I never crossed my mind to be a homosexual. Indeed I was a practising heterosexual, but seeing the errors of many ways I chose to bypass metro-sexuality for metro-celibacy. If nothing else it’s safer this way. Cheaper too.
“You’re Gay!” others will say.
“No, I am metro-celibate.” I shall proudly respond.
Four sentences with four things from the last four weeks: I took a diving catch low down to my left fielding at shortleg to dismiss a batsman for a golden duck. I took a picture of myself giving a two-finger salute to the White House. I took a £10,000 loan out over the Internet without meeting a single human face then cancelled it an hour later. I took cover from one of my best mates and my ex-girlfriend, who just got back from a year in Australia; where they miraculously ended up together. If I needed a fifth example: I took back my MP3 player to my electronic retailer for the third time this year.
And people say all I do is give.
My case: Supposedly living the height of civilisation, modernity and evolution I have been gifted with a generous, if not extravagant upbringing and education in the home counties of England. Turning 21 and graduating in the year 2000, I was raised through Thatcher and Blair by my divorced Mother under the reign of QEII.
Many humans throughout the world and all of history would look at the technologically and industrially enriched, even manicured life I have lead and long for it, perhaps in place of their own existance. Increasingly though it seems, I care less and less for our continual advancement - we have already come too far - too quickly. I claim to be part of an over evolved generation; it makes one unhappy because the advertised world we were raised on is not ready for us, nor seemingly will it ever be. No wonder there are many that realise this truth and simply give up. My work here is to explain, through the sum total of my own education and life experience, the plight of the C21st man. How the luxury of modern life breeds unhappiness in model male citizens, as they make their way through it.
To put forth an initial thesis, I blame Darwin and Freud. The former for my ability to observe the complexities of my own modernisation and evolution; the latter for my analysis and explanation of my place in this civilisation. My understanding of the process of putting my modern life in to words comes from a more cotemporary range of literary, philosophical and metaphysical backgrounds, HH The Dalai Lama, C. Bukowski, D. Adams, HS Thompson, to throw some names out with considered abandonment. You may know none of them, it could be argued that the correct one is still currently living, but it is not a debate that I, nor any of those fine gentlemen, would get involved in.
metro-celibate – Despite the fact I’m attempting write poetry for a living I never crossed my mind to be a homosexual. Indeed I was a practising heterosexual, but seeing the errors of many ways I chose to bypass metro-sexuality for metro-celibacy. If nothing else it’s safer this way. Cheaper too.
posted by Marcus Woodrow at 22:55
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