the age of distraction

We are living in an age of distraction. To the and way past the point of being overwhelming. All of these distractions act as the catalyst for procrastination. "I"ll do it after this article. I'll do it after this one last webcomic. I'll do it after this one last song on youtube. I'll do it after I finish watching the girl who's pretending to be a teenager take it in the ass." Then when it's 5am and your priorities are rotting on the floor behind you, you're at the tipping point. Do you blame a sincere lack of self control and take the blame for letting yourself do nothing but shit around all night, or do you reach for the cop out of a.d.d.?

I feel most people reach for the cop out. Not that I have little to no faith in humanity, I've just observed enough to know that the majority of people tend to swing for that cop out a lot more than they take responsibility for their own actions. It's just...human nature. People are finicky and full of denial, and I personally feel that to ask every single one of them to be authentic enough to willingly admit being in the wrong is asking a lot. Being wrong is icky and puts you in a bad feeling place, which, on top of living in The Age of Distraction, goes against what we have also been living in: The Era of Feel Good. It's all gotta feel good or it's no good.

So in our modern Age and in our now long lived Era, I can't help but feel a little twinge of "fuck me, is this boring." Everyone and everything is blurry, hazy, and capricious to the point of being flaky and un-worthwhile. And don't get me wrong, I'm no square. I'm right there at the forefront of getting fucked up and expanding my constant curiosity for what is beyond the horizon I met the night before, but what happened to continuity? What happened to the morning after where the worthwhile thoughts of the night before go to thrive and become solid statements and movements. I dare not delve and dwell on those who have taken journey's with me to horizons I've long since left behind who did not care to notice the anthropomorphic blossoms opening up on the sides of the pathways, begging to be replanted through some idea laid to rest in morning light. So many wasted heart beats I've heard while I plucked bundles of these motley colored ideas as if I were picking wild flowers.

So I guess what I am saying is that...I am highly disillusioned with my past and current experiences with those who have claimed to want to make art and move forward, yet spend their time doing absolutely nothing but remaining unfocused and unwilling to put the dagger to their palm and draw blood for something that could, potentially, become greater than they...and I wish to change this. I can't do...what I want to do by myself. I need help. Everyone needs help. Through the gauze and layers upon layers upon layers of fliers, I want to break through, shatter, and shake. And I will enlist the help of anyone willing enough to go that far with me.