(Leaf 114) – Art Inspired
Looking back, the 1990s seem like a strange island set in the midst of time. A brief moment in which history ended, but then started over again all too soon. We lived it. Unplugged, on an even flow. The Matrix was rebooting, while we danced long into the night, heedless before the sunrise. We chose life. Riding the whirligig of those times. And we lived it well. A return to innocence. Wandering city streets at all hours, come rain or shine. Dancing a final waltz in an analogue world about to turbo-charge itself into a digital future. Ungraspable. The wind of change quickly dissipated itself into a forgetful, cul-de-sac of calm. We played dead during the lull. Modern life was rubbish.
Whizzing from pubs to clubs. We were sorted. Dreaming of discos in the Y2K, while slipping the blade in the marmalade. We got off our faces, and found ourselves stranded. Long after the last Tube was gone. Stuck in a queue at a kebab shop in the early hours, in need of a jacket. Shivering. The beautiful ones. A jilted generation, Generation X. Getting away with it, all messed up. Living like common people, bingeing on pulp fictions. Wondering what we should do now, while weaving threads from three colours: Liberté, égalité, fraternité. Living our lust for life. Surviving so many little earthquakes with a tear in our hand. Thinking it ironic.
We saw ourselves revolving in bullet time, slowing down then speeding up. We never even heard the call for last orders. Because by then, we were out of it. Somehow, we’d slipped out of the lock-in unseen, and found ourselves locked-out with no route back. Out of time, we took comfort in our friends. We hurt, with no one to blame but ourselves or the man in the machine. Relishing our own bittersweet symphony. We passed out on the night bus together, just as we always did, having spent all our cash. Waking up, the morning after found us feeling groggily uncertain. Disembodied. Disconnected. Looking out of the window and seeing the scenery of our lives, accelerating. How did it all recede so damn quickly? – Leaving us with an unspooled and chewed-up mixtape which we are now comprehensively unable to rewind.
I miss those days, both the good bits and the bad. If only we’d known at the time – but, somehow, I think we did know. And that’s probably why we made the most of it, while we could.
Remembering you –
debuting similar hair,
dancing to old songs.
