Squinting at the memory of a young man hidden behind a purple mask. Watching the tumble of an apexed bell-curve, over and over and over. The early thirtysomething peak flattening into obsolescence. I've stopped holding out for the optimism of dynastic legacy. People flinging decades of hard-earned wealth into black holes named Middleclassdom, and Reidentification. Behind it all, the whir of bank vault locks and the staccato tap of ticker-tape readers. Watching an infinite line of people paying for the nostalgic privilege of being a tourist in their own youth.
10:59 p.m. - 2020-06-24
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
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