The year of Cynicism

If 2011 was ruffled with protests and classic mess ups, 2012 promises to elevate the gloom to another level altogether.

2012 promises to be a cynic in the making.

Cynicism, very rightly the Greek (ironic isn't it for Greece to take center stage at the onset of a very cynical  2012? ) school of thought is now far from what it was originally cut out to be. What initially meant selfless and unconventional has dwindled down to a mere mockery of sorts, a distrustful and contemptuous virtue of sorts.

How could we miss the possible tell tale signs of a now rapidly evolving cynical generation?

Falling markets and a failing economy supplement your morning coffee. Everyday promises to be a walk around town, a town sprawled with scandal and sleazy politics. We do not wish to be hopeful fools anymore. We'd rather stop believing, we'd rather stay a finger-breadth away from the TRUTH, because the TRUTH as we know it isn't the truth anymore. We'd rather believe in the power of a toothpaste than a brand that promises a deluge of freshness and the power to charge your life. Out with advertising, lets talk subvertising, lets talk culture jamming, lets talk meme hacking.

Brown is the new black and fat is the new thin.

On a more personal note friends keep tab, lovers keep score.

After all, we've graduated from an era of 'No thank you, but I'm glad you asked' to 'Would it even hurt you to ask?'

Cynicism, at the end of the day, is a bloated reality of sorts. Don't we all agree?

For now lets bite the dust with some Lasagne al forno and a dirty martini.

I know I happen to be 15 days behind schedule, nonetheless...Happy New Year folks!

2012..@)!@?

This year I saw myself falling in and out of love. I saw myself falling in and out with myself. I was an embodiment of nothingness in particular and yet something beautifully tragic. I lost something I never truly had. I owe it to myself and all these years of wanting to write. There are a few positively terrifying things in this world. One of them is sitting down to write with a dread that you would turn out to be no different. In my defense, I have nothing better to do. 

Why would anybody want to let go?

 6.15 pm and the sky is a beautiful little thing. Flaming crimson with a touch of cherry pink.

Let go you’d say. Just let go and sit back and let things shape up into what they were supposed to. But I was never the one to let go was I? I’d carry it with me everywhere…in my bags, in my shoes, in my cup of coffee and in my mind until it would become a part of me. 

It’s funny because I thought I saw you grin yet again and watch my plight behind bright blue curtains, sensing a spot of red in my bright blue world, the one that began to smudge, the one that wouldn’t stop. 

I am a lost cause, I make no qualms about it. .I don't need your reality to come to terms with mine.