OFLUXO

 

Part I 

 

Recently I have been bothered by a re-occurring feeling of awkward nostalgia. As if part of my body was slowly rotting, and my mind was haunted by a vision of the past, articulated through a repetitive mantra of ëOh I memberí. Pointlesslonging determined by the good old days feeling, so superficial and shallow as mold can only be ñ some kind of fluffy disgusting fungus killing your appetite. The older I get the more I tend to enjoy nostalgia ñ in a similar way as early 19th century architects with their craving for the restoration of gothic vocabulary, or as retired empires gaze at their past and find pleasure in the glamour of their once-majestic maps. Isnít this the most conservative thing in the world? Praising old school as the only value that remained in the times of post-modern liquidity, post-internet artificiality, post-crisis seizure, post-ironic sense of humor.  

 

E is for Escapism 

E is also the most common letter. 

Did you know that? 

Did you try it? 

And if not, would you like to try it?

 

Part II 

 

Your tongue feels like a lizard, gently sliding over your lips and teasing the palate. It’s wonderfully soft and slimy, yet it creeps through your mouth as if it was a muscular surfer stuck inside a giant whale, which was thrown on the Venice Beach by an apocalyptic tsunami. Shaky jaws spread seismic waves through your face, your neck, and your whole body. Where is the Epicenter of this earthquake? ìWhere have you been all my life, my love, my little blue love? I miss you and I want you and I want to be around you. I want to be round just like you. Iím here because of youî. Your eyeballs ñ finally detached from the brain after 23 years of constant struggle ñ go crazy and you can hardly stop them from rolling up and down. Itís the ultimate ego trip, space journey you have won in the lottery, a time capsule for all the best moments of your life falling on you all at once! I see your horizon. I see the blue lines of linear perspective as if we were in the film Tron, or inside some Italian Renaissance painting. Itís a perfect illusion, detailed visualizations replacing the giant velvet sun that just set. Itís an escapist tunnel taking you straight to the Holy Jerusalem of Acid Heaven. No, there is no exaggeration here. Itís pure optimism; positive vibes with eyes wide open – super wide open.

 

Part III 

 

There is, however, something tempting in thinking of nostalgia in the framework of the Nineties. The good old accelerated Nineties. The times of flourishing music industry and the techno religion on the rise. Galloping progress fueled with Techno-Capito-Optimism. New hopes and new drugs. An era marked by the End of History and the great collapse of the Cold War order. A decade when liberalism wasn’t so much neo yet and the division between real and virtual was still a thing. The last decade that wasn’t actually haunted. Nowadays it seems so old in these terms. I guess itís just a matter of time for it to begin looking heroic.