Untitled Document

The LOST Beginning

I never saw the best minds of my generation – they were left deserted to their own thoughts, refusing to even recognize what those thoughts were – they were dead, alone in their minds; Generation Next fought hard to avoid any identity whatsoever, allowing for only contemplative and wholly insatiable plans for the future – great economic empires were dreamed up soley for the purpose of cruel financial gain; some of these corrupt yet lawful empires would eventually be realized, while the majority would end up on the cutting room floor, like so much of our young and doomed lives do. In fact I never saw any minds of my generation, though I could see through their inherent falsities, and though I perceived their empty nature. Minds were lofted aloof by Baby Boom standards, and clouded by Generation X failures; minds were set and not to be changed, believing and ignorant, all original thought missing and inexplicably laden with concrete, unmoving and utterly desolate danger – yes the minds of my generation are lost, but unlike previous generations, they do not yearn to be found. They instead see themselves fighting a corporate ladder, halfway into the black sky of deceit, with no rungs below them, making it impossible for them to descend into the serenity of understanding, which the cradle of birth should have, but most certainly has not, guaranteed them – and so I find myself among the minds of my generation, and my heart soaked desire to ‘know’ will ultimately lead me even further into hopelessness than those who simply move along the unmoving and direct path of life without a passing thought as to why they are completely insane, and why the insane are completely within their irrational minds – surely, the insane are the only sane ones; surely, the only reason the insane are locked up is that they hold the key that inevitably threatens and questions our wretched existence.

Nevertheless, I never saw the best minds of my generation, doubt they even exist – they were probably lost in the throws of namelessness. Or perhaps I simply never came across them, as I am sick and insane, dirty and drunk. I look for those minds not in libraries and educational institutions, but in bars and dives, as I believe that is where I will find these lost minds. Yes they should be in bars, shielding their hangovers with whiskey or beer or absinthe with vodkas and shots and wonderful cigarettes. Smoking and drinking to try and find me, but I do not see them. I am a dirty young man though, so it could be that they see me and avoid me like the plague that I undoubtedly am. Hiding their thoughts they sit idly, hiding from thinking and explaining, running away from themselves. They lose themselves in their empty careers, all the while dodging their deep personal instincts.

Fuck them –

I will still search.


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A NOVEL PASSAGE

The LOST Beginning I never saw the best minds of my generation – they were left deserted to their own thoughts, refusing to even recognize what those thoughts were – they were dead, alone in their minds; Generation Next fought hard to avoid any identity whatsoever, allowing for only contemplative and wholly insatiable plans for the future – great economic empires were dreamed up soley for the purpose of cruel financial gain; some of these corrupt yet lawful empires would eventually be realized, while the majority would end up on the cutting room floor, like so much of our young and doomed lives do. In fact I never saw any minds of my generation, though I could see through their inherent falsities, and though I perceived their empty nature. Minds were lofted aloof by Baby Boom standards, and clouded by Generation X failures; minds were set and not to be changed, believing and ignorant, all original thought missing and inexplicably laden with concrete, unmoving and utterly desolate danger – yes the minds of my generation are lost, but unlike previous generations, they do not yearn to be found. They instead see themselves fighting a corporate ladder, halfway into the black sky of deceit, with no rungs below them, making it impossible for them to descend into the serenity of understanding, which the cradle of birth should have, but most certainly has not, guaranteed them – and so I find myself among the minds of my generation, and my heart soaked desire to ‘know’ will ultimately lead me even further into hopelessness than those who simply move along the unmoving and direct path of life without a passing thought as to why they are completely insane, and why the insane are completely within their irrational minds – surely, the insane are the only sane ones; surely, the only reason the insane are locked up is that they hold the key that inevitably threatens and questions our wretched existence. Nevertheless, I never saw the best minds of my generation, doubt they even exist – they were probably lost in the throws of namelessness. Or perhaps I simply never came across them, as I am sick and insane, dirty and drunk. I look for those minds not in libraries and educational institutions, but in bars and dives, as I believe that is where I will find these lost minds. Yes they should be in bars, shielding their hangovers with whiskey or beer or absinthe with vodkas and shots and wonderful cigarettes. Smoking and drinking to try and find me, but I do not see them. I am a dirty young man though, so it could be that they see me and avoid me like the plague that I undoubtedly am. Hiding their thoughts they sit idly, hiding from thinking and explaining, running away from themselves. They lose themselves in their empty careers, all the while dodging their deep personal instincts. Fuck them – I will still search.