I live in Auckland, New Zealand, so any international readers probably think that this particular blog will be about as relevant as wearing jocks under lined swimming trunks. But I am going to try and keep things fairly universal… you know the drill “same sh*t, different city.”
When did people get so material? I am by no means guilt free, Fu*k I think I pretty much sold my soul about the same time I spent six hundred bucks on a pair of Prada sunnies? The fact that we as suggestible/seducible consumers are conditioned to want a whole lot of crap we don’t need obviously means that some overpaid advertising creative (who can afford to eat the kind of sushi that doesn’t require the cheap splinter riddled pull apart chopsticks or the minuscule squeezable soya sauce) is doing their job pretty damn well. So well that the devil himself probably wants to invite them to the exclusive Friday night after work drinks in the fiery depths of hell.
I think if Sprite tried to tell us today “Thirst is everything, Image is Nothing” their sales would laugh them right out of the supermarket and megamart chillers. Our generation is driven by desire. Necessity has fallen to the wayside. Were our grandparents ever like this? Perhaps this whole notion of desire is the single strongest catalyst to blame for our other current growing obsession with celebrities? Guilty again!... even as I was writing that statement I couldn’t help but think how cool being the effortless ‘never seen to be working’ Vincent Chase would be even if only for a day.
Well, it is what it is. As much as I dislike it and loathe myself for my own buy-in, I will continue to wear my Pradas, drink my 24 Below, occaisionally smoke my Dunnie blues and always buy Italian shoes. Wait… the last one is necessity. Consider me vented. I am guilty myself of the exact sh*t that I spurn so I can only assume that this blog is complete projection. For today anyway. Am I irritable?... more irritable than a 16 year olds shaving rash.
//TD
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