Saturday, September 02, 2006

"I'm a young achiever. What can I say?" Kid Rocks

Dear Rocks, Rock on! And we are, we think, saying it with the use of the appropriate hand gesture that goes with it. Yep, that one. The one which is a cross between the finger, the fingers, the other finger sign and that finger signed and this finger...good Lord, where the fuck are all these fingers? Fuck the fingers. We seem to have gotten them into a twist. Best we stick to knickers. We're sure you know what we mean. Do you? Hmm. We're not so sure you should have. Truly, you are quite a precocious comprehender. We are beginning to understand the politics of you, our dear young achiever. On that note, here's the finger for you, man. Fuck you and your young achievements. Yeah, man. That finger one. Rock on! Just don't get used to it. Young achievers should cultivate that ability to not cultivate it. The ability to lose the ability to achieve sooner than others. It's the karmic revolution of evolutionary tryology. And zoology. Dammit! How the heck does one spell that thing? By the fucking way, are you also a voracious speller? We mean, zoo-awe-logy, phonetically speaking. Anyway, that's besides the point. But the point besides the point besides is, shouldn't the damn thing have three 'O's? Fuck that. Let's just keep rocking on down this bumpy road, man! Let's not get into the speed-breaking spellantics of it all. The point is, don't rock on, too much. Better not to get comfortable being a young achiever. Achieve a state where any new achievement makes you uncomfortable with it. Get so uncomfortable with it that you make a mess of it and eject it from your life. Eject it before it ejects you. (Trust us, it will.) Start preparing for the fall. Better still, stop achieving. Furthermore, stop trying to achieve. More over more, start slacking. Furtherover moreover, do something else to deal with it: Nothing. To get started on nothing, start doing less. Start winding down. Little steps towards no steps. Don't get wound up. Lose the passion. Control the passion. Kill the passion. Don't be impassioned. Question the passion. Get sick of the passion. Fuck the passion. Fuck passion. Let's talk hunger. No, let's not talk hunger. Kill the hunger. Introduce yourself to the sorrow of the morning after. Learn to start writing loser poetry. Like the scowl. Cut the smile. Glow the frown. Clip the wings. Lose the urge to fly. Get ready to die. Dump the cloyetry. Okay, that might be a bit drastic, but try and understand the deeper implications of what we are alluding to, while not saying. What you can start with are small mantras like this will not last. Every success you manage will be the last. Life is too fast. Another peak is destined to be, very soon, another blast from the past. I must remember to live in the past. Don't mind it, we're only telling you all this since you asked. Had you not asked, we wouldn't have bothered. And since you asked, here's more from our time which has passed. Please understand the last four are not mantras on how to deal with what will, very soon, be your part of your whory past. They were just us explaining what we were telling you since you asked. Aren't you sorry that you asked? Good. It's a good way to understand the value of what you will be very sorry for everything that you are today and will be, soon, a distant memory from the not so recent past. On a more positive note, enjoy the achievement while it lasts. On an immediately sobering note, do not enjoy it. On an explanatory note, the reason you must not enjoy it is because then you start missing it when you don't have it. And you will not have it. Be sure about that. You will not have it. And that's just so your doubly sure of that. You will not have. That's just in case you missed it. Don't miss it. And that's in case you do, which you will. Because when you don't have it, not only will you miss it, you will hate it. you will hate it more than you ever enjoyed it. And then you will hate the fact that you enjoyed it. So, you may as well enjoy it while it lasts, which it won't. Evidently, it's not about what you can say anymore. It's more like what can we say? Not much more than off you go. We must be on our way. And so must you. As a young achiever, you still have a few miles to go before you start losing sleep. We sincerely hope we were able to fill your swollen head with the right deflatory cues. When you're down in the dumps, do fucking remember to give us our due. For if you are a young achiever, the hard knocks of life are very much lining up in a long, long, long fucking queue. And that's our cue to leave the fucking stage to you. Phew. Your knockered Funcle.