The realization that my generation's cultural output is nothing, but pastiche is existentially depressing. We arrived at the party late, after everyone cool already left. We had the scenes. I drank cheap beer at backyard punk shows with mohawked derelicts who collected vintage Star Wars action figures. I hit up all the goth clubs spinning Bauhaus and Siouxsie. But it was never my party. It was performative. The studs, black lipstick, ripped shirts didn’t belong to us, we just wore them as a costume. Ghosts of the past haunting our future.
Late to the Party
Late to the Party
Late to the Party
The realization that my generation's cultural output is nothing, but pastiche is existentially depressing. We arrived at the party late, after everyone cool already left. We had the scenes. I drank cheap beer at backyard punk shows with mohawked derelicts who collected vintage Star Wars action figures. I hit up all the goth clubs spinning Bauhaus and Siouxsie. But it was never my party. It was performative. The studs, black lipstick, ripped shirts didn’t belong to us, we just wore them as a costume. Ghosts of the past haunting our future.