The Glitched Age
This is a stub, a first stab, so forgive me, it.
I think we need a new name for the time(s) we are living, going, existing through.
Our version of ‘the gilded age’.
Clearly, ours is not glided.
So what is our age?
I propose: ‘The glitched age’
Let’s start in 2008.
Things might have crashed then, but they did not break.
Things are still, sort of working.
But we know that things aren’t quite right, not quite going to plan.
American-style, full-throated, full-throttled capitalism splutters on, its promises not trickling down as it might, it should.
And this is reflected in the pictures we make, the music we make.
Revelling in never getting going. Being borked.
We have taken on the jitters of the time.
Growing up is full of glitches. We are pigeon-stepping to an adulthood that might never come.
We are frustrated. We want to move faster than physics allows.
We hate when we try to swipe, and we get stuck.
We are failing to achieve escape velocity.
The new, the better isn’t here yet, and we are impatient.
I am 37 today (Thursday). The best present? A sense of being able to flow freely.
A metaphorical open road.
For things to move again.
For the glitches to disappear.