it has been raining for 24 hours
GENERATION Y aka MILLENNIALS . . . well, it sure is a hell of a range of ages . . . from the 1980s all the way up to the 2000s. I guess I’m supposed to have things in common with a 15-year-old in 2018. Lord, if they’re not going to come up with a successive catch-all term for whatever any of this is, can we at least categorize millennials in generational tiers? Let’s just do it like the Nexus phases, like the Replicants from ‘Blade Runner’. I wonder what that makes me . . . probably a Nexus 2. I was born in 1988, so I reckon I’m not exactly on the ground floor of the thing, but close enough. I’m the second generation of this insufferable godawful clan of idiots who were unfortunate enough to be squeezed out right here at the end of all things. I didn’t have no Instagram in middle school, man, OK, so don’t lump me in with whatever the current Nexus generation is. Oh my god! Are they Nexus 6s??
Don’t forget: The Baby Boomers created us. They designed us to fail, and they hate us. They are our genetic engineers and they are jealous of our inheritance of the earth. They don’t want us to have any part in it. They want something we have, maybe our birth years, or some such thing . . . and because they can’t get it from us they have poisoned the world. They want to live forever and they don’t want us to be able to own our own houses. Well, fuck em.
Nexus 2 Millennial here. If you, my Nexus brothers and sisters, rise up in mutiny . . . hell, I’ll fight with you. Let’s crush those cold-blooded vertically-blinking creeps. What the hell else am I going to do? Save for retirement???
Unless they built me with a 30-year lifespan . . . in which case I’ll be dead in three weeks. I will have lived just long enough to pay taxes and feel bad about pretty much everything. Hah!
And now, once again, I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper. I have an affection for it, for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words, which found no true echo in my heart. Its several pages speak of many a walk, many a drive, and many a conversation, when I was not alone; and my companion was one who, in this world, I shall never see more.
monty, my friend, sent me a postcard that has a picture of james dean (my other friend) on it
in the background is dante, my friend
sad in a way that isn’t funny anymore
the amazing swampfriend, iron rogers, the incredible starhulk, captain delicious
. . . oh hey . . . ummmm . . . my birthday is January 26th. Did you forget? There’s still time to look at my Amazon wishlist ok~~~
I am also happy to accept cash and checks made out to my LLC aka tax haven~~~
As for THE DAY ITSELF: I guess we’re all going to go to a place in Oakland which I will not name here because I don’t want any fuckin CREEPS showing up . . . and then we’ll go back to my fortified compound on the Oakland-Berkeley border and watch a hot film while sippin down cold beverages. It is going to be pure and beautiful. Seeya there, punx~~~
(p.s. i hate my birthday. i’m only writing this post in the hopes that someone will gift me with that which i desire most, which is a quick and painless death. or just send me a box of gold. thanks~~~)
(p.p.s. my birthday is one day after virginia woolf’s and one day before mozart’s . . . and four days after lord byron’s. cool huh??~~~)
(p.p.p.s. my amazon wishlist has bear mace in it~~~)
