Call me a cynic

Ireland is gorgeous, having recently been there I decided it would be the perfect summer retreat, where I can drink Guinness in the pub once a day and spend the rest of the time writing in solitude, un-distracted by the hustle and bustle of our grim grey world. Everyone is friendly, extremely so to the point one ponders the meaning of such a front, could it be strife, the scenery presents a picture that could never harbour such, so it must be a sincere cheerfulness that resonates. Now its been a while, minus updates, so let me present my ponderings. I’m growing tired of England, I think it was Ireland that highlighted the annoyance festering away and never surfacing out of a pathetic and well disciplined social propaganda that comes with growing up on war films, a father once in the forces and a fascination with history. My “education” has been based on happenings of previous era’s when our civilisation was a very different civilisation. The glories of the past though based on the fact that winners write history has, with my maturity been unveiled well and truly. We live in a world unashamed of its ignobility, its architecture (lets not prattle with pretence) is dull. And its latest exhibition is merely a man on a plinth. We convince ourselves foolishly that ugliness can be beautiful. Consider this, in 200 years time we shall be compared to the baroque and the renaissance, pre-Raphaelite’s and the Georgians. What have we to show for it besides the representation of what we have become. Cold buildings, shouting through microphones and watching ourselves in vane fascination, almost arrogance. We think we are brilliant and frankly we are not. We never were, only we once stood humble to beauty and form and artistic curiosity, striving to genuinely improve as a civilisation. Now we stand self centred, the core of our world is built around ourselves, it is, I fear; a rotten core and unless we take steps to alter, it will be our downfall, all civilisations come to an end. I sometimes ponder the next dark age, but then perhaps we’re already in it.

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