Austerity for one more day

I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of lifestyle austerity — we’ve made life disposable, it’s a refusal to ‘spend’ or ‘invest’ in things (not stocks), it’s not something that just started in 2008, this is my cynicism tablet for you/ a complaint about the modern aesthetic that will never be as articulate as anything Matt Healy does

Our whole culture is based on the appetite for buying.

Park days

park days — seemingly perennial image of the average everyday life of a human being, feels ironic, yeah we still walk in the park and walk our dogs, we aren’t at dog walk robot level yet but we walk less, we spend less, time on things like our kids, without screens, or going places, really going places outside

Cuts, snips, they’re getting shorter
as your life stretches out, on a page,
like a lightbulb waiting to be allowed to die,
no time, no watch, no
more days in the park, walks with the
dog, someone else will do that, no more
daisy chains in the garden with the kids because
the clocks stopped that day like they thought they
would, the start of the 2000, but they just got faster,
or did we lose track again? it’s always been
like this, dad was too busy tipped over
upstairs in work

Hand carry luggage

we all want to be saved from the emotional purgatory of the unknown — the issues, commitment, separation, anxiety, all of it — so we kick it all out? hand carry luggage — how light, stow away able our lives have grown

Single, you wear it like a badge, like a
beauty spot of envy
heart with an initial, on a drunken stroll
across the dating screen flicks, rolling a
spliff tight, along the
bar counter, through the conversations with
friends, and more than friends, and people you
don’t know, it looks best tossed on clean sheets,
on one-night-stands, and
tiny slip dresses in the sand, tracing its nails across
your taxi window at 1 a.m.
no commitment, an email attachment,
a link, no
issues, it’s lightness, it’s a pretty pearl
choker for your neck

Bedroom work

modernity has failed us again, convenience, things we take for granted as how we should be living, vs things we take for granted as unnecessary and chucked us instead, bedroom work — what does that mean anymore when our whole life is blurred into one room, one flat, one box?

the slick office oil has rolled into one, along with your gym mat and your carpet, the Persian rug you got as a wedding present, how long ago, has it been since you had the house to yourself since your life has trimmed itself to fit into the modern thong, gone for a Brazilian, a laser, so the mess will never grow back, the coffee spillages, or the cat lady next door stopping you on your commute to discuss her grandson’s football, it’s gone, with the lawn you threw out for an astroturf, for bigger things, like mini football games, to make your son better at football, to get outside more, like you, because isn’t it nice to sip frappe orders by your sleep all day and get paid for doing it?

Praying to the river

commercialism, disposable life, mirroring our life, the internet is our stream, to our ancestors, if you can’t see the big grey river in the room it’s Amazon, heard of her?

it works like a dream, this little machine, this delivery,
the river never fails, it is a good midwife,
next day delivery, or by 10pm, same day,
must be lucky, not everything comes like that, most
things are just next day, it’s like instant
gratification, slow anticipation,
this is all we know now, this stream has fed us all, weaved
its hasty art, across a moon and sun,
the boat will come in the morning, so let’s sleep
for now, and dream about what was it again,
we can’t wait

No belief system

the post-truth era we live in, the lightness of our lives, have they lost meaning because we’ve given up on it, should we be burdened with this lightness and having to find our own meaning, do things ourselves, or just accept part reliable ‘truths’, it’s a LOT compared to the past where you just followed convention

Cavalier is cool
we’ll all be dead soon anyway, we have only twelve more
years to live, that was the same number as disciples there
were, wasn’t it? they never taught me that at school, or
maybe I don’t remember, Godspell was the musical was it
ignorance is bliss,
the young people like to put in their songs, it
appeals, it oils the millennial mind, it feels
numbly awake like freshly pressed sheets in white
neat and tidy, like a made bed, which you
wouldn’t do, but some days it is the only thing that feels
cared for, along with the cactus on
the table by the crib
the same one you’ve slipped years away in
life is too short, life is too long, life is too full of
religions and people to care about, air particles to
reduce, to suffocate, animals to be kind to even when we are only
going to eat them, and do what must happen before they arrive on
a plate, there’s too much noise, I can’t hear my headphones,
there’s new everywhere, new yoga routines, new crystal
healing powers and manifestation techniques, and new
news, do I have to look up every artist I listen to now before I like any of
their songs, to make sure they are not guilty of doing things that are wrong,
wrong, bad, but I’m no good