Unreliably Yours

My homie Andrew (ex-neighbor too) and I were having this great convo about what defines the 20-30 yr. old generation, by accidentally stumbling as we were (like doing the running man on a bed of pine needles), when we decided what our generation are are the conduits, the translators of information archaic and modern, and all too necessary. The past has been defined by, well, hard definitions, and goddamn rules we’re suppose to abide by, with regards to who’s supposed (or not) to know what.

*Fuck that shit. (I’m going to dedicate a whole blog entry to all tha shit that pisses me off, but more later.)*

I think many benign, but oblivious librarians; old skoo acadmeics, and those that hold this information, which is truly the key to our development as people and a culture as a whole; the knowledge of events that have transpired, these very thoughts that inspire even just one person who’s quietly absorbing it on a dusky afternoon;  don’t realize the unspoken seething power of expressing this privy information, like we do, the giddy pirateers who smilingly reach and grab it back and spread it (like manure).

Oh Snaps! Hip to The Beat, But Were All Dancing To It.

Our generation is really defined by fusing wisdom into decentralized, tasty lil bits, easily digested, without necessarily being compromised.

Less hierarchy, couverture, and an awesome freeballin’ attitude is what we bring to the table; in turn, we transform with a resilent, albeit lighthearted inevitability these ivory towers of yore.

Now, they’re Black, Brown, Yellow, Queer, Young, Laughing; they’re stylized, with a nod to a joke we can all be in on; they’re hip in their assuming innocence.

All of this long winded prose is starting to seem very vague for an entry on accessibility and the common man.

But to end gracefully,

This is a call to become historians (it’s in all of us).

Artful History.

We reenvision History with the power of absorbing,

and communicating this precious art of our lives.