From the outset I have to admit that my thread of consciousness in this post is HEAVILY influenced by the essay, This Is Emo, by Chuck Klosterman.
The problem with progressive modern pop culture is that it’s based on progressive modernity. Which also works as a perfect example of how something can be a problem but not necessarily a bad thing. Most of the problems we face are quite beneficial; abject loneliness effects in cultivated personalities, dictatorships squeeze courage from the disenfranchised proletariat and agoraphobia makes for interesting writing, I hope.
Our great contemporary concern seems to revolve around romance, it’s why gyms are packed, clubs have cues and people read blog posts entitled Hybrid Emo.
I will never honestly believe that the world is in receipt of a remnant of noble and stoic selfless humanitarians. Part of me will always suspect the NPO fair trade social justice warriors of doing what they do just so they can pick a romantic partner from a group of like minded neurotics concerned about winning the moral olympics.
This notion that romance is at the heart of modern society doesn’t upset me, in fact I quite like it. The bit that upsets me is the way we go about girding our understanding of this phenomenon. Entertainment and fiction seems to be our go to place for enlightenment on the nuts and bolts of love. We’re trying to actively recreate moments brought to us by a cast of the world’s best actors, with a massive budget, state of the art technology and infrastructure. A cast of two without the guidance of an editor or a director of photography, just two untrained non actors sitting in a seedy bar rehashing hazy out takes from the last romcom they sat through. Yet this is our approach, we’re actually attempting it this way and that makes me a little nervous about the whole proposition all together.
In the heart of every best case scenario is a love story that takes its cues from fiction and this seems like a fabulous reason to worry.
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