The Lost Generation

I just watched "Across the Universe," and it got me thinking. Is there something to be said for drug-addled radicalism? I didn't think there was, but now I'm unsure. These people who lived their lives so in the moment as to destroy themselves, their generation, and their own culture may be more worthy of applause than we who wear natty suits and drink cognac. The Vietnam War, which is portrayed as such an unstoppable force, engendered more outburst of pure feeling than any other event in American history that I can think of at the moment. Gertrude Stein called the children of World War I "the lost generation," but we still seem to have them. Maybe Allen Ginsberg had it more right: "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by / madness, starving hysterical mad". The first Great War caused chaos and disillusionment, but the madness was different. The madness of Vietnam was a madness that took its madmen down, piece by piece, until we reached the stifling banality that I want to escape now. When I see pictures of the drug dens and riots and concerts and cafes I don't think "man, I want to do that," but even worse I think "there is no way that could happen anymore." It isn't in our psyche. What frustrates me about today's "radicals" isn't their impovrished idealism and desire for iconoclasitc individualism, it's their complete and utter inability to mean anything. We are living in stable times, when the world is presented to us on a ticker tape, and we nod and approve or disapprove and discuss the implications of yesterday's coindicences. The worst atrocities of the world are unfortunate. The heights of human achievement are laudable. There is nothing to go crazy about. There really isn't.

"The poor will always be with us." "Death comes to all." Drugs aren't enough, sex isn't enough, rock and roll is words to music. Everything is mainstream, everything is kosher, everything is selfish and pointless and we should accept everyone for who they are. Hate isn't dead. Violence exists. Always has, always will. Pride cometh before the fall but the fall really isn't that bad. We've created a nice cushion of acceptance and complacence and social security for the failures and the punks and the angry students. Boys will be boys. Mid-life crises are mundane. Go out and buy a car and get addicted to morphine or heroin or sex and come back and work out the rest of the week.

I'm not angry. There's nothing to be angry about. I'm just disappointed.
God has always been dead, but for how long has life been dead?