in the migration in the mythic-historic-human
complex from past to future, from power being invested in the old to power
being invested in the young, and the old now foolish in their massive
senescence, their technological obsolescence, the young not being permitted to
nicely and biologically kill them but – yes – to sustain them as props for the
stages on which they bounce – how do the old combat in this reconfiguration of
energy, this simian and aesthetic comedy, this social inferno, this revitalized
death?
is this not capitalism’s function and
necessity? to give the old a purpose, turning
them into economic units for the young – the young’s revenge, for being used so
cruelly for such millennia for the sweat and pleasure of their elders? but now the old – if they have fulfilled
themselves at all – have amassed property and savings, protected their
retirements, carved a little monument of name … the established old passing
their knowledge of amassment to the young (this the formal educational and
therapeutic process). but even if the
coin was once tossed heads and is now tails, both sides remain bound to an
alloyed currency, a pocket jingle, a cosmological flip in the indifferent air.
and for those who attempt to simulate the air
and nurture indifference in the sacred capitalistic environments in which they
find themselves, environments with neither soil nor indigenous horticultural
techniques, for whom then young and old, poor and rich, future and past,
foolishness and wisdom, obsolescence and currency, power and poverty are all
sides of the same randomness of jingling change? what are they?
do we not see them indiscriminately driving
the vans of DeathLabs through the cityspeaks of now, cackling like water
bottles, blinking like cells, exiled from opposition like clinical tests on the
flesh of an unknown god.
