Change is always happening, constantly occuring. Not always in such one big fell swoop, mind you, but it’s not something anyone should be surprised about when it does occur. Is anything ever the same? I mean, anything that is animate and doesn’t exist within a vaccuum.
We’re constantly having to shift positions in our seats, or scroll through our phones to “see what’s happening” due to that incremental growing chasm we feel in part of ourselves. There’s this inner disconnection that perpetuates this generational zeitgeist FOMO (fear of missing out).
Something has to change. Undeniable dilemma. Boredom’s not a burden anyone should bear. I can help you change tired moments into pleasure. Say the word and we’ll be well upon our way.
There’s something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be. Desensitised to everything. What became of subtlety?
Tool – Stinkfist (1996)
(Sorry Maynard, but I had to do it! I’ve totally butchered the original lyrics to serve my own purpose, but if you can read this than I assume your google isn’t broken and you can just look up the full lyrics yourself. I’m such a cock tease.)
Back to my tirade! RAHRAHRAH.
The grunge days of the 90s was born of a generation that was in rebellion against the fake materialism of the 80s. You had these musicians who were angsty and over it. I’ve mentioned Grinspoon here before, and their first album is smack-full of smack references. Jaded kids who didn’t see the point of it all.
A generation of lonely, rebellious, ungrateful, angst ridden youths who have no idea how good they have it. Youths whose voices were stifled in their persona lives and misery loves company. So a whole mass of people just congregate and stand around, loitering! Just to be somewhere where they didn’t feel so alone. To be with others whom they could relate. Why can’y they just see that their parents are trying to do the best for them? Shut up and sit down and be grateful for this beautiful house and everything I ever did so I could give you what I never had.
Maybe your problems aren’t their problems. Instead of actually talking to each other and listening to each other, we just act on what “we think we heard”. But that’s just lip service. That’s just a bandaid solution. Cover it up and wait for it to heal on its own, without you having to do anything at all really.
What are some things that we want to change? And it that’s too hard, what are some things that we don’t want to change?
Oh, confused about my choice of pronouns? I’m sorry, I’m assuming that we were in this together. You and I, you and you, us and them, me and her? Hah. We may be different, but we’re not THAT different as to not have common desires, interests, tastes and ideals.
It’s all food for thought. Gotta feed the machine, keep those mental cogs turning and working. To aid off symptoms that may resemble dementia..?
Maynard is a lyrical genius, well, a real genius if you ask me. He’s a modern day Renaissance man. He has lead a fascinating, multi-faceted life. He’s an enigma of sorts for the way he portrays himself in his performances is not who he truly is. His performances are a performing art! The person who sings on stage is just a persona within a persona. It’s pretty awesome how multi dimensional the whole experience is.
And by experience, I mean MY experience, being able to enjoy the art as a musical piece, but also the lyrics on their own as a piece of smutty satire (profound meaning underneath all those sphincter fingering and fisting imagery), the progressive melody, the multilayered performance of performance… *brain orgasm*