I love the idea of Futuristic living, or even ultra-or-faux-Futuristic living, as a means of escape from decrepitude and melancholia. Since I was very young, I took in the images with which I was bombarded, via the entertainment world of Science Fiction and Fantasy, and would meld these in my mind to create bully-free utopias, androgyne ashrams, sterile temples to a pantheon of steel demigods and goddesses, playpens for robot friends, amusement parks powered by pneumatic tubes, etc. This, of course, was when I was not in “Halloween” or “Horror” mode. I remember when the film version of Orwell’s 1984 came out in, well, 1984, and how dazzled and chilled I was all at once. On the one hand was the dystopian nightmare of the government having its eyes, ears and noses in and around everything we do (aka, 2011), but on the other hand, there was this Land, this Futurescape, if you will ride along with me as I make up words, that was very sexy, secluded, safe-seeming, even. It was that same cold, sexy comfort I felt when I watched films like Blade Runner, or even the original Tron.

Today, of course, we have government oppression, riots, protests, and unrest, but without all the Futuristic Sexy. Hardly seems fair, does it? But there it is. And don’t get me wrong, things could be much worse. Things are not nearly as bleak, not in America nor in most of Western Europe, as they could be, but that’s certainly nothing to be completely satisfied with. Anyhow, I guess the romantic/ artist/ author/ dreamer in me simply thinks it would just be a sexier time, a dreamier time, a more awesome time in which to live if we did have the flying cars, the wrist phones(okay, we almost have that), the ultra-modern architecture, the (dare I wish for it?) Light Cycles and Hoverboards! Ah well, as the Thompson Twins once bleated, Here’s To Future Days!

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