What possesses us to think only of the now? Is there some kind of gene sequence that was planted in us so long ago which causes the ignorance of no foresight? I don’t understand how a million protest anthems can go unnoticed save for some beautiful memory in the minds of the masses who used to live and breathe those words, but now who’s greatest concern is the wrinkles in their business attire. No one seems to be able to live in that world for very long.

    Yet here we sit being buffeted by the breeze that is the breath of those who came before us that wanted things to happen, who knew that somewhere, someday, someone would give it the right spark. Their hopes and dreams float in the air as if still moist from the condensation of the lips that spoke those hopes and dreams. Their screams and protestations still rumble the speakers of our stereos. Their fantasy lands stay alive in the minds and actions of the precious few who carry on the messages, even when the originators of those messages have long since given up. Still nothing is done save for some peaceful revolution that gives us all a tingle in our spines until the next year swoops down upon us, bringing the light of new trends and all that now feeds our pop-culture fairytale.

    Mozart was once considered "too racy." Now, we consider this a tame, soul-calming rhythm. Once upon a time, this meant something to someone. Every new generation is like the dawn of a new day, with new visions and desires that they hold near to hearts that prepare themselves for the time that they will take over this world and start making it turn, like the many generations before them. Every new generation brings a new look, but it brings the same dreams: that someday people will be able to look for peace and find it; that someday, Love will rule; that someday we won’t need governments, nations, creeds, origins, races, genders, languages, money, or anything else that prevents everyone from getting to know one another just a little better. This is the goal of every generation, and that goal is consistently set to squalor.

    Take music, for example (or, more specifically, even music just from the 20th and 21st centuries). Every day, new bands take stages all over the world with their messages of protest and love. Every day, those who’s eyes are still bright and undarkened by the harshness of this reality take to the pits and rally around these bands with fists high in the air and songs of the good life on their lips. Every day, hundreds of thousands of those do things like graduate college and forget all that they’ve learned and all they’ve been inspired to do or be for the sake of the quest for the almighty Dollar (Yen, Euro, etc., etc.). Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of everyone’s lives on this planet, someone(s) is (are) out there thinking about the "good old days" when the world meant something to them and when they still felt alive enough to care. Then, their alarms blare and they wake up from that dream to go make decisions about the world.

    These decisions are of important matters, such as raising interest rates and where to drill out as much oil as possible before we run out in 50 years; such as who to go to war with, who to help out in this or that war, or which ethnic group to repress for the sake of pride; such as the idea to put lead in our gasoline, to use DDT in our fields, to use CFC’s in everything imaginable, the whole time not giving a fuck about anything but money. The list goes on and on. The children that they once were are rolling around in the graves that they buried themselves in and crying out in agony for all the lost causes for which they once fought.

    Listening to the educated philosophers of the Now is a fad that 99% of us "grow out of." Why? Because prophets aren’t in it for the money, and we all know that you can’t make any money with a degree in philosophy, so what’s the point? It’s sad to think that we all really care a lot about the jobs that we will someday get. Yet, we don’t think of them as "trades." To us, these are not things that help out humanity as a whole. To us, these are the things that make us money. It’s hard to love that which you have to do in order to subsist, and therefore, it’s hard to love your job. This is very unfortunate, considering that, in the end, we all depend on one another. What we create is a world in which everyone thinks and acts in accordance to themselves, and no one really helps anyone out. How can you help anyone else out when you have to worry so much about yourself?

    And what of love? We’re constantly thrown images of the good life, how things could be, the perfect forms of love. Oh, but wouldn’t it be grand if, once again, we took the advice of those we look up to? Show me someone who can really love and I’ll show you someone who’s been enlightened. Yet the vast majority of us just don’t seem to get it, and this includes those who write these ballads. We have no idea which way is up, where to go, what...no, who we should be. We’re so alienated from ourselves that we can’t even recognize our own identities in a mirror. No one seems to know how the good life will be achieved.

    It’s toward a goal of death that one lives. Paradoxically, sleep is cherished among us, yet we fear eternal rest. We strive, often unbeknownst to us, toward the good life. It’s an undefined and closely guarded secret that we hide in the shadows of our daily rituals and libations; however, the innermost human quest seems to be a slow, tortuous, systematic suicide. Eternal life does not have to be an obscure, theoretical ideal. Throughout the centuries, we have shown that this concept is tangible by virtue of remembrance. Though we see this truth, we’d rather engage in the comfort of what’s already been shown.

    We’d rather not consider the fact that our lives are a virtual speck on the timeline of history. We’d rather be blind than face the possibility that our existence is pitiful and believe those ideologies that tell us that life means more than it does. We look at our lives as if they are a gift, but upon closer inspection they are more like a burden. Black begets white, happiness begets pain, love begets hate, trust begets jealousy, and good begets evil.

    "I’ve this creeping suspicion that things here are not as they seem..."

    Now is a different period of time than yesterday. It seems like our destiny is a continual string of paradigms, each replacing its former with struggle and stubborn refusal of sensical justification. Each proposes betterment, and each is destined to be replaced by another that proposes a better form of betterment. Each is a small step toward a perfection that isn’t there.

    And here my words take a farcical turn for the worse. This is an introduction of what’s yet to come. I can’t offer up suggestions or dig up hidden ‘fix-all’ truths that aren’t there. A good friend of mine once suggested that peace could possibly only come with the onset of extreme longevity. Only then will humans be wise enough to handle the pressure and problems that come with our collective inheritance of this Earth. What I can do is present evidence that more of a problem exists that we could ever imagine. What I can do is try and convince you that a cool, nonchalant lifestyle may bring you peace, but it won’t bring you enlightenment. My goals are ones of presentation and theorizing, not solution. The solutions will reside within yourselves as individuals, if you let them come...