#post-cringe

She

She

Despite being in a world run by boomers, and despite the fact that Generation X folks always feel forgotten, I feel like they don't realize how much their generation shaped the counterculture that the cool people still all basically live in.

There are a lot of parts of that I love. I love Daria, classic MTV, Ren & Stimpy, hacker culture, Nine Inch Nails, Radiohead, all that stuff. I saw the impending corruption of capitalism (and, hopefully, its eventual downfall) the same as they did.

However... well, there's something deeply ironic about the fact that so many pillars of the goth, alternative and occult communities are Generation X, because, as a group, they are so cynically, woodenly atheist.

This struck me on the way home from a goth club. I had a good time, but something was missing. I love the people I hung out with, but there was a gap that bothered me. And after some deliberation, I figured it out:

It was when I talked about my strong and growing relationship with Duchess Gremory, my most intimate patron. I try to make it light, like, "I had to inform my girlfriend here that she now has a goetic demon as a metamour."

My friends, they didn't exactly say, "Brianna, you're crazy." But they are... they are these types of muggles who are interested in the occult, who are interested in science fiction and fantasy, but, while physically younger than me, they are part of that stolid, nihilistic, ceaselessly sarcastic Generation X cultural milieu, and thus cannot behave appropriately.

The non-muggle appropriate behavior would be like: "Oh, wow, what's that like? How does she appear to you or speak to you? Have you had any especially interesting dreams? Have you noticed her helping you out? What sorts of offerings does she like?"

That's what I want. Not diatribes about occult history and theory, not astrology, not witchy quasi-sex workers constantly looking for ways to convert every social interaction into revenue, just people I can talk to.

I don't think these types of folks see how sick they are, because they are constantly maintaining their pessimistic Gen X-appropiate face.

I get it. If you are still around in this world, and you're not an early-to-mid boomer or a manic pixie dream girl (who, while often witchy, dramatically underestimate how much their survival has hinged on their sexual allure, as opposed to their occult puissance), it's because you made pragmatic choices and sandbagged your whole life. If you're a working artist, your art found an audience because it reflected the gloom of the times.

But like... there's a reason that Jhonen Vasquez can only make funny doomer comics, where a happy ending is laughably impossible, and that it took a late Millennial to make Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, where despite a comically evil setting, love still happens, and it is sweeter for its incredible difficulty. 🎵 Anyone who finds love in Hell can do anything, baby. 🎵

Gen X'ers are intractably uncomfortable with silliness, theatricality, and hope.

And yes I'm glad that someone wrote Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, because olds are so domesticated they would be hard-pressed to notice a deeply disturbed serial killer next door.

But this problem I'm talking about is why Vasquez struggles to make new art. It's the same reason that my friends can't just cast spells, find a religion to practice, dance like they vaguely remember being a sacred whore of Ishtar, un-self-consciously pursue hobbies, make friends with random wild animals, or learn to sing.

It's why they we can't just have a real general strike or a bloody revolution where we put the billionaire pedophiles up against the wall like sensible creatures.

That's what a muggle is. Not someone who can't see magic, but someone wading in a world of magic, who can contemplate no reaction beyond putting on their Wellingtons and grumbling about the weather on their way to their soul-destroying corporate job.

Gen Z might have started calling things cringe, but Gen X defined what cringe is, and why it is bad.

Length: Very short story

Genre: n/a

I am sitting at my desk, typing away on my older model thinkpad. Not even writing anything, I just like the clacking of the keys. They are so tactile. Tap tap tap, and then I bash one of the bigger keys. CLACK! I do it a few times, just because it feels so satisfying. CLACK CLACK CLACK! Wow, so tactile. CLACK CLACK CLACK

DING DONG!

What the fuck? Which key makes that sound?

DING DONG!

There it is again. Let me think...

Oh yes, the doorbell.

I hear my brother getting up from the sofa to answer it. He's been playing that sports game on his playstation all day, no way is he going to answer first, his legs must be all cramped up. Ironic. I push my chair back as I get up from the desk. To the left is my door, which is open. I got nothing to hide, except my secrets. Nobody expects secrets to be in the open, anyway. It connects straight to the hallway, and at the end of it, two meters away, is the front door. That's three meters, whereas my brother has at least six or more. I turn and speed walk forward, but just as I reach the room doorway, my brother passes me by.

"Sit down, bitch," he says. He was faster than I expected. No matter, I’ll play it cool.

"Whatever, I was gonna pee, anyway," I quip back.

I extend my pace to the smaller bathroom which is right across the hallway. I don't even close the door all the way as I start unzipping my pants. Drop them commando mode, to the floor. The undies, too. No shame, even in the public latrines, surrounded by people. I didn't need to piss, but through sheer power of willpower I managed to squeeze out a solid three second stream, long enough to rationalize my visit. I press the little flush button, causing a dull CLICK, and leave the area as my brother is passing by, returning to his dumbass couch and his dumbass game.

"Smell ya later, masturbator," he says.

"I was in there for three seconds."

He turns around. "I know, that's how long it takes you to jerk your little andy wang. Bet it takes half as long with a girl, loser." He moonwalks away while cackling.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't know!" I yell back.