Science Fiction/Double Feature

Michael Rennie was ill the day the earth stood still
But he told us where we stand

Often, I lay in bed, in the wee small hours of the morning, thinking about Modern Life. This, unfortunately, makes my head hurt a great deal, so I usually stop soon after. But, often, when thinking about it, I come to the conclusion that all of those odd philisophers were right: Life is nothing but a higher being whose dreaming. And, if you think about it, this is not a dream; it's a nightmare.

This is, most unfortunately, an age of anti-intellectualism. The Modern American would much rather spend their money on Scary Movie ##, rather than see a film that would, dare I say it, make them think about their lives.

We live in an age where people would much rather tune their television sets to the latest episode of a formulaic New York police drama, when they could just as easily watch a program that would make you remember it, as you lay awake, looking for something to think about.

We live in an age where teenagers run, in droves, to the nearest record store to purchase the newest generic pop band's generic record, when, for less money, they could purchase a not-so-new record, one that could, indeed, stay with them long after the pop bands of today have spent all of their "hard-earned" money.

We live in an age where the Modern American, settling down to watch the 11 o'clock news, finds a story about a fat cat on it, only five minutes into the program, ahead of a story about a roadside bomb in Baghdad. It's the same age that halts regular news for all of the details about the death of some stupid and unsightly ex-porn star.

This Modern World is the story that devotes countless black-and-white space to the break-up or offspring of two "movie stars", while simultaneously pushing away important information on the actual world we live in. In This Modern World, black is really white, and a two and a two do make a five.

For a good while now, longer than I'd like, I have been a man without a country, too embarrassed by the state of Modern Life to acknowledge my part in it. I've become fed up with that. I know plenty of people who, too, have grown to dislike Modern Life, but prefer to stay silent about the atrocities of it. And, as sad as it may be, I also know plenty of people who are blind to the problems with Modern Life, and go on, day by day, sitting idly by, making no remark about how it has become a sort of war.

So, I write this message, in hopes that it will open the eyes of another, someone who would gladly stand tall and scream their lungs out about the downfall of Modern Life, rather than sitting still and silently, while society crumbles around them.

Unfortunately, for now, until I fade away into the airwaves, I'm stuck living in this Temporary Life, so I feel it's my duty to give my two cents on it. Oh, I'll be damned if I go to my grave without giving a few kind words about my place in it.

However, make no mistake. This isn't a blog created for the purpose of witty rhetoric to judge me by. I'm certainly not clever enough for that. But, I hope to update this blog as often as possible, and I'll be writing about various things, from the "tragic and untimely" death of someone who I enjoyed mocking, to a review of an album I've just heard, or a film I've just seen. I wish I could make my living doing nothing but standing around and complaining, but alas, even though it worked for, Noam Chomsky, I'm not that good.

the morning sun's about to break,
i'm looking in as you create someone,
you lift your head and brush your teeth,
and make your bed as if you won't sleep again,
you fix your hair and tie your shoes,
and tuck your shirt and now you feel new.

the glass is full, the glass is broke,
and every day dissolves and there's no hope
of ever leaving this temporary life.
of ever leaving this temporary life.

You may ask yourself "is there anyone so alone?"
but there's no beep before the dial-tone
when you pick it up to see who called
if there is it's probably your mom

But, oh, the rising sun brings little cheer
to this city with the stolen name
and you're wondering whose bright idea
it was to pack your things and leave your friends
and move down here.

-Death Cab For Cutie, This Temporary Life