Molten beats. Molten air. Molten Sunday morning atmosphere in Brooklyn. Feeling kind of salty about having to get up and move but that’s just the way it goes. Sometimes you’re not doing it because it feels good. Sometimes it’s just the right thing to do. Put on your big boy pants and show up for the day and that includes the days that aren’t yours. That’s what the young folks call “adulting.” It’s kind of obnoxious that they turned a noun into a verb, but it shows that they’ve acknowledged that there are going to be days where you just don’t want to be grown up but you own your shit and do it anyway. All the while you acknowledge that you’d rather not. The stoicism of my generation was always just dishonest anyway. Becoming an adult isn’t a choice. It’s something you do because there aren’t really any alternatives, unless you’re super rich and you can extend it pretty much forever.

Guess who isn’t rich.

I’ve got a soundtrack though and it matches my lazy bones. It’s just pulsing along with all the other involuntary impulses. I breathe in and out. My heart beats. I sweat. My brain drifts into spacy reveries and for moments here and there I’m no longer grounded by the trail of sweat that goes from the center of my back southward to the pavement. For a brief second I am somewhere else.

We’re not spacemen though. The jetpacks and flying cars we were promised are nowhere to be seen, and to be fair, we would probably be bored with them already anyway. The future seemed so much brighter when I was twelve. It was shiny and exciting. There seemed to be a promise of adventure and heroism. But the truth is, as has already been proven, technology hasn’t made us any different than we were before. Sure, our daily movements may be different than they might have been, but we’re still just apes with the same motivations and impulses and shitty instincts. It’s just that we’ve got a broader range of distractions and entertainment. Other than that… well, we’re all still kind of just brutish cunts. And some savage as well. All the promises could have come true and we’d still be dissatisfied and greedy and scrapping for more. All the wonders that we actually have created and we’re still bickering and biting for shiny coins and stones.

No, we are not the future we promised ourselves.

But we are adulting. Most of us are adulting anyway.

I’m going to go adult.