Good morning, Tuesday. The weather in New York is like a never ending case of PMS- aggravating, puffy, and gloomy. I've about had it.
So lately I feel like everything's irrelevant. A bold statement I know. But I do. And I don't mean anything about my personal life, mind you. That's more relevant than ever. But I mean the world at large. So from a social commentary perspective, I'm back in high school smoking cigarettes in my pink bedroom, hating on everyone.
I've been watching the shows at Fashion Week and it feels utterly pointless to show clothes that one can't buy fresh off the runway. The whole model needs to be reinvented, because nobody really cares. And judging from most of the shows I've seen, the clothes reflect this new nihilism I somehow can't shake- everything feels so off, so unimportant, so not special.
Take last night's Grammys. The highlight of the show was the 12 year old piano playing prodigy at the end, and we had to wait the whole bloody show for that. Between Taylor Swift's bob to Kendrick's rage (which is relevant but was horrible to watch and listen to) to the sad state of Lady Gaga's Vegas medley in homage to David Bowie, everything felt horribly irrelevant. Does anyone buy albums anymore anyway? Isn't this vehicle ridiculous at this point? Do we really need another song about kissing girls or girl crushes? And remember when Johnny Depp was cool? Guess what he is now? Yup. Irrelevant. And bloated. It's all so pointless and meaningless. Nihilism is my jam. Or else I'm just old and not connected to anything that's happening out there.
Believe me, I've considered it.
But I've always felt connected to youth culture and what's happening out there in pop culture but right now I hold out as much hope for that uniquely American export as I do for Trump ever curing his extraordinary case of rosacea. I'm not sure what's happening but maybe there will be a trend towards irrelevance, nothingness, and existential crises that would do Camus and Sartre a real solid.
It's true I come from a super cynical generation, which by the way, may make me and all of my Gen X mishpucha irrelevant too. I can even point to my own industry of advertising as one quickly rounding the corner on Irrelevance Alley. One need only have watched the Super Bowl spots to see that in action, although the Grammy spots gave my hardened soul a slight glimmer of hope. But not enough really. Oh and a recent update on last night's after parties is one for the books- Sir Paul McCartney couldn't gain entry to Tyga's after party. That's sad, yo. A world where Tyga is more relevant than a Beatle. Yea, I know. But it's fucked.
Perhaps it's just time to stop looking without and go within to figure out how to conform and adapt to a world where nothing feels fresh, vital, or remotely interesting. Sure it's fun to keep up with the Kardashians from time to time, but I feel our waters are toxic with an insignificance that overwhelms- and maybe that's because there's actually a lot of real fucked up stuff to worry about. Is irrelevance our new drug to cope with too much, well, relevance?
My fantasies never felt so nihilistic. Perhaps I need to daydream a bit harder...or get with the program. Or feel the Bern? Freewheelin' on a Tuesday. Yours, in existential destruction. XO