(I just found this little rant. I was 22, so don’t hold it against me. I am writing this while reading it for the first time in 19 years. No edits help me see who “me” was then.)


Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I’m a modest guy. Fairly modest at least, but, hey, nobody’s perfect. I like to do simple things; I’m not too much for the flash, except, of course, in movies, music, and women — the few that there are in my current situation. But what the hell is there to life besides moves, music, and women? Not too much, I guarantee.

I guess I like the movies so much because I am placed in another world. I know Holden Caulfield hated the moves, but that was because, back then, movies weren’t anything like they are now. Sure, people liked to go, but Holden was an outsider, who hated following the generic view of things. He did his shit “Old School” style. But there is so much talent and technology nowadays. You can’t help but go to a flick and have a good time. Sure, a lot of the big budget hits are pretty much hype, and I can see myself in Holden’s shoes when it comes to those types of movies. Technology can only do so much to a thinking person before he/she gets bored. You can put all the explosions, all the tits, all the big name stars, etc., and it wouldn’t amount to “diddly-squat” if there was no plot. But you know how people are. They live by the “Now” ideals. “I want my excitement and I want it now!”-type attitudes. They don’t want to spend five bucks on some movie that you have to think about. I guess this has a lot to say about the world we all live in. Everyone is so concerned about having things right away or they will be bored. People also flock to the theaters like cattle if they hear a movie is the next blockbuster.

The trends.

They just drive me nuts sometimes.

And it isn’t just the movies either. I see it everywhere I go. People doing this, people wearing that. It’s all a huge popularity contest with no acceptance for second best. For what isn’t “hip”.

The way I see it is this: the “rush here / rush there” world we live in gives us no tolerance. That’s why the stockbroker jumps off the building. People want it here and now, regardless of what it takes. That’s why there are so many divorces nowadays. You hear about it all the time. People become impatient with their spouses, or are unsure about their decisions to be with that person. This is why the wife is banging the mailman, or the husband is banging the secretary. It may not be the most “politically correct” analogy I could have used, but it’s the most common one I could think of.

It’s impatience that roots all these “evils.” Impatience is made worse if you have grown from childhood to maturity with this trait. Impatience can turn the most agreeable man into a cynical bastard. It can turn the virgin into the hooker or the honors student to the addict. I want it now. Complete satisfaction…all the time. If his wife has a headache, Joe goes over to Michelle’s house for the loving he needs.

There are no more values; just fast food.

I want it hot. I want it now.

I think that getting rid of the concept of time would make everything a little less stressful. It may throw off the schedules that we all need to live by, and lower paychecks, but it sure would relieve the stress of having to be somewhere at a certain period in time.


(It’s sometimes very painful to wade through the crap that I wrote years ago. However, I hate to miss out on the thoughts of what I was inspired by at various times in my misdirected, but hopeful, youth. I guess Catcher in the Rye was one of the “jams” at that time, but I think that was a “go-to” classic annually, along with On the Road.)

I happened to stumble across the magic sounds of Florence and the Machine while rewriting this piece (of whatever you want to call it).
I happened to stumble across the magic sounds of Florence and the Machine while rewriting this piece (of whatever you want to call it).

Published by Mind Stroll

This is a collage. This is old and new. This is mainly new added to old. This is not a test.

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