Just a brief thought from the day, before I attempt to sleep. (Again.)
I was trying to succinctly describe my feelings on the city of Philadelphia (where I presently live), and I think I hit upon it: this city is very much like a really funky, incomprehensible beer with like three waves of often contradictory 'notes.' If you've ever really explored beer, above and beyond the domestic watered down yak piss that most places try to foist on you, you know what I'm talking about here.
After each sip, you simply can't tell if you like what you experienced or not. So you take another, and another. Pretty soon, you've downed three of them, you are shitfaced drunk, and still can't tell if you kind of like or absolutely hate the thick frothy shit you've been downing all night.
That is Philadelphia.
I've lived all over America and spent time in all the major cities. Philadelphia is still my favorite. It's ground zero for the death of the west. It's one of places America first started, and it's one of the places it first failed. It also helps I was born here on the day of the Mummer's parade.
ReplyDeleteBut when I read the Evola quote, "However, in contrast to your opinion, I see nothing but a world of ruins, where a kind of front line is possible only in the catacombs." I think of Philadelphia, and it's potential.
I say potential, because when I read people like Rushkoff who deny the idea of subculture being removed from American society, and who was a raver, a very petty, superficial and safe thing to be part of, I think of all the crazy things I have seen the waste, ruin and disenfranchisement of Philadelphia help facilitate that people like him would be too scared shitless of to go near.
Like squats full of face tattoo kids in the middle of crack ghettos, and graffiti kids who bomb SEPTA lines in parts of north philly that are like third world countries.
I would say Portland reminds me of rum, well rum. It gets you fucked up, it's cheap and you can have a ton of fun or get really sick of it.
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