it’s time for bravery
Is it cynicism or plain trepidation that makes us wish to disavow our pasts? It’s time for bravery: my best years were the 90s, the decade of slackers and indie pomp and god-knows-what, and without those years, I would never have grown to this. Mere fashion makes us relegate such things; and I think of St Paul channelling Muddy Waters, ‘now that I’m a man, I throw off such childish things’. And yet to relegate the things that make you an adult to mere childish frippery is itself a denial, an undercutting of your own foundations. And that way lies a true addiction to the whims of fashion, an unwarranted betrayal of the things you forget you hold dear. Enough of that shit, then. Enough of senile embarrassment, because everything that makes me is made up of every thing that made me. And though some things I may regret, because I regret some aspects of myself, it’s not simply fraudulent to feign amnesia: it’s an act of pure cowardice. And cowardice is the greatest impediment to growth. So, bravery from now.