Saturday, September 1, 2012


Different people are defined by different happenings. Some are defined by people they've lost or gained, others by opportunities they've wasted or used. Others still may find that their destines require them to lose what they once thought completed them. That is the postmodern attempt to be… beyond the narrative. To seek some unstructured semblance in the chaos that has been brewing. To find not a new page or notebook even… no not even a new medium but a complete new sense of existence governed by a new moral code that does not react to an existing one but rather dispose of the very need to acknowledge it beyond letting it go.

Pot meets kettle, snows among petals and the dear masses we revel. We are only beginning to sense the dimensions upon which we must refrain to amalgamate all that's passed with all that we are now… but rather imagine what shades of unimagined colours we may bask under right now, and now. And now.

To find post modernity thrusted up you before fully enduring modernity itself is a cruel blessing. But blessings cannot be unturned by their sheer measure of cruelty. Must we all endure standardised experiences through preordained stages? I sincerely doubt. What moral perception one may hold of this is irrelevant.

Nevertheless and however subconsciously we know this: we do not and cannot want this to be a renaissance of glorious days past. Those days are gone and so have we. We cannot care to simply return. We mustn't wish to be reactionary. This present will soon be past. How should we care to be progressive when this present is not meant to be taken forward? I care to explore other dimensions and unchartered narratives, at best anointed previously as non-starters.


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