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I hate all this youth stuff. Everywhere I look there's help and advice and fabulous opportunities available to people under 18, 16, 25 ... sod the disaffected youth, where are all the opportunities for despondent 30 year olds? And where was it when I was that age? Somewhere else, clearly. You only find out things when it's too late for them to do you any good.

Damn. I have a cold, a headache, and it feels like a thick grey band of stuff is moving slowly through my head. "How are you doing?" asked burn-out Mel as she passed me in the corridoor. "OK," I croaked, shuffling back to my room. As I opened the door, I realised that as I had walked off down the corridoor I was made that little coughing sound people make in films to signify that they're terminally ill. What a ham.

I wish I were in bed, but I have another review scheduled for this evening (Rhinocerous by Peepolykus). It's for the best. The worst thing to do is stop moving.

Comments

( 3 worms — Feed the birds )
ex_aphonia179
9th May, 2002 09:40 (UTC)
youth wasted on the young
I hate all this youth stuff. Everywhere I look there's help and advice and fabulous opportunities available to people under 18, 16, 25 ... sod the disaffected youth, where are all the opportunities for despondent 30 year olds? And where was it when I was that age? Somewhere else, clearly. You only find out things when it's too late for them to do you any good.

That's the rub, isn't it? I'll be thirty next month, and in my own journal today, I ranted about young women who never had to have doubts in their heads about how fabulous they are because they had it broadcasted at them since birth.

It's uncomfortable, innit?

Hope your art is going well. Hope the useless bint is becoming more tolerable as time goes on.

Your pal,
A.
mkhobson
9th May, 2002 12:25 (UTC)
Isn't that new Moby song great?
Or do you hate that it's in your head and you can't get it out?
MM
cleanskies
10th May, 2002 01:12 (UTC)
there's nothing I would rather have in my head
I quite like it when good music gets stuck in my head, except when it goes into a loooop and I'm just endlessly singing one memorable line then snapping back and singing it again, again. This is where Moby's strengths as someone to be playing in my head really come in.
( 3 worms — Feed the birds )