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The Lost Generation - warning, this post is a history lesson.

At the end of the first great war, where the world lost tens of millions of its male youth, survivors enthusiastically returned home to rebuild their lives. This generation, known as The Lost Generation, searched in vain for a place to recover from the experience of life in the trenches. In the United States, many of these soul's resorted to traveling around the world looking for a home, often settling in a small town you may know of called Paris. Much of the uneasiness of being home may have been a result of the anti-radicalism which had started to emerge as a result of the war. Wilson dragged us into World War One without much reasoning, but the war became post-humously justified with the rise of the Bolshevik's in Russia. The Russian Revolution was the force which truly scared Americans and radicalism was the name given to the face.

Nationwide fear of communism as a result of the Bolshevik Revolution led Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer to begin a series of raids known as the Palmer Raids as an effort to remove threats to society. This time period became known as the Red Scare.The majority of these raids were aimed specifically at illegal aliens who could potentially hold mixed allegiances. Believing domestic person's can just as easily be threats to the nation, J. Edgar Hoover was appointed as the leader of a new bureau designed to control the radicalist threat, the F.B.I.

We went to war to quell radicalism, but in a way, it may have brought out the radicalism within us. This idea cannot be more supported then by the entire year of 1919 when three major strikes rocked the nation. The Boston Police, The Steelworkers Union and the Industrial Workers of the World (with the allegiance of the Longshoreman's Union).
Fearing a tangent, I won't dive into any of the strikes except the Boston Police Department. Unwilling to meet the desires of the Irish-Catholic force which was seen as a threat to conservative America, then Governor of Massachusetts, Calvin Coolidge, fired the BPD. With America undergoing a fury of nationalism, the move brought the governor instant fame and landed him as vice president under Harding. Upon Warren Harding's death, Coolidge became the beacon of conservative politics as President and was reelected in his own right in 1924. It's sometimes funny how things work out.
Race riots in St. Louis, Detroit, D.C., Omaha, Los Angeles and Houston among others were, among more primal reasons, a result of black GI's returning to their nation after fighting against radicalism to find very little support. GI housing and employment were non-existent to them as it was to many other veterans. Angry of their treatment by white America, African-American protests formed and shortly after violence ensued between white and black gangs during what became known as The Red Summer. In response to black mob's forming, white youth coined the term "drive-by shooting" by banding together and driving with excessive speed through black neighborhoods with weapons pointed out the windows. The Ku Klux Klan had reemerged as the forefront of the conservative movement and no longer were black Americans the only ones facing discrimination. Catholics may have faced hatred and been seen as threats to society because of their allegiance to the Vatican or maybe just because they were different and oppressive to the overwhelmingly protestant population. Henry Ford, the prominent automaker and devout anti-semite, was one of millions who believed that the entrepreneurial Jews were creating a conspiracy to bring down American capitalism. These "threat" cultures represented cosmopolitanism to white-Protestant America.

nobody loves us

People think all we do
is lie around and think
of how rich we'd be
if we didn't think life could improve
And we just can't wait to make more mistakes
And we just can't wait till the whole thing blows up in our face
Call us home
kiss our cheeks
Nobody loves us.
Dab-hands at trouble.
With four days of stubble, we are.
So, never loosen the grip on our hand.
Call us home, make our tea.
Nobody loves us

scott is a hypocrite

So at this moment I am laying on an air mattress on the floor of my friends apartment. A girl and a boy are asleep head-on-chest in the beds of both rooms and therefore, too far to walk home this late, I made camp in the hallway. I just heard something moving in the ceiling. I took off most of my clothes as its fairly hot in here, but I know I'm going to be freezing by about 5 am. The window in the hall is open and a fan is sucking in air to quell the stuffiness of winter life in Massachusetts. Sometimes you are just in the mood to think and despite the people lying in beds giggling behind the walls, I am feeling pretty melancholy. Do you know what I'm getting at here? When you lay in bed staring at the ceiling doing the thinking that makes you question relationships with girls or the direction you're going with your life. Well tonight I figured out that I am the biggest hypocrite I know. I love to talk about how we have too little time to be negative, but I think its just a subconscious refusal to admit my faults to myself. I try not to be an advocate of "do as I say not as I do" teaching methods, but I never said I was perfect either. A deontological theorist like Kant would commend my efforts to bring subconscious problems into real-time.

Today I rode bmx bikes with Adam around the back bay and south end of Boston in an effort to take advantage of a fifty two degree sun soaked afternoon. As I successfully wrecked in every attempt to feeble the ledge at Back Bay Station, Adam came straight forward with me when he announced that my grinds were all wrong and that I should relearn them now before I pick up the habit of incorrect angling. "Your balance is way wrong because of the angle you approach the ledge" he said to me,"just go in more straight." What an ambiguous thing to say.

its two thousand and great..

another year, 365 wasted days.
scott, the selfish, drunk, insensitive shithead.

Today I saw a glimmer of something fresh and exciting. I had a pretty good day as of the time this sentence was written.



I miss the days when I was ignorant to the differences between all of my friends. When everyone got along and "better than you" attitudes were only displayed against frat kids, not among "friends". What makes you better than the next person? What a bunch of jock bullshit.

to all of my friends who live a real life, worrying about themselves and their friends, living to their own standards and appreciating what others have found: you are the lucky ones. Its 2008, we don't have enough time for negativity. Frustration and depression will get the best of us.
"watch me rise"



photo by mairin hart

"i hate assholes"

So I decided I need to get rid of some more things and that I need more of some things in my life.

Here are things I want to get rid of...

1. Tough guy attitudes.
2. hypocrisy.
3. lack of motivation.
4. lack of self-esteem.
5. people who embody the previous 4 things.


here are some things that I believe I need more of..

"there is no fear in this heart."

So I am back in Boston. This time for the longest stretch yet. I spent a solid month back in my home town of Richmond over christmas time and it was sort of a breath of fresh air. I was able to get both of my motorcycles running with the help of my mechanic, Frank. There is something indescribable about putting a 650 v-twin into 2nd gear at 5,000 RPM's. The weather was also amazing for most of the time I was home, so riding was top priority next to hanging out. The time I was able to spend back home really got me caught up on some things I was missing. I made up with some old friends and strengthened my relationship with some of the newer ones. Today, I woke up in boston to this.

"...dancing drunk to the radio"

The Suicide File

"..nevermind what stays the same."

To the one person who might have read all my blog entries, I talk alot about how I am trying to be a better person. The thing about trying to be a better person is no matter how hard you try and no matter what about yourself you try to hide, it won't go away. Last night I was sitting on my couch thinking about what I want to do with my life, am I wasting my time in college, should I continue to up the punx and drop out... or should I just stop being a pussy and finish it. Unfortunately for my parents, no matter how much time I spend doing these things, my life involves far more than just working and going to school.
I decided that I am going to finish school, but at the same time, up the punx way more. I started by ending my career as a hippy.

The Moderization of Masterbation.

So as many of you have noticed, I have completely run out of good ideas for things to write about. Therefore, I am starting a new chapter in my blogging career. I am going to offer you a chapter called "Good Idea's that other people have had that you should probably think about as well". The first segment is a thought that the wise Zed Cutsinger had recently. Without further hesitation... I present you with.. The Modernization Of Masterbation.


Like many of my modern brothers and sisters, my chair has wheels on the bottom of it. Five wheels to be exact. Having a mobile chair has its advantages. I can spin around whenever I'm feeling un-dizzy and I can push myself to the other side of my room if I want to roll over clothes, wires and Magic cards assorted on my carpet.

Like many of my modern brothers and sisters, my computer is my primary medium for masturbation material. I watch pornography with two eyes while one hand scrolls through the video. The other hand will be left to the imagination.

The combination of these two parts of my life in conjunction with my bedroom having unleveled floors is a catalyst for inner turmoil, and the lack of outer turmoil as a result.

I'm watching the girl next door (figuratively) and on the verge of unleashing half a mouth full of white paint onto the palm of my left hand when I begin to go mobile. I'm intensely staring at a set of floppy hangers when the wheels begin to spin. The chair begins to spin, clockwise. I begin to spin clockwise and drift away from the girl next door (figuratively and literally.) My mind thinks, "Boobies. Boobies. Oh. I'm moving. Why am I moving?" The tower I'm massaging begins to crumble on itself. The unlevel floor is a terrorist installation planted to prevent spluge from flying towards my ceiling.

If this story was a math equation there'd be a less than symbol lodged into the hole at the tip of my penis.

Unlike many of my modern brothers and sisters, I'm sharing a story with the internet about my inability to orgasm in the year 2007.

http://zedcutsinger.blogspot.com

gahhh

I've been trying to be a better person lately, and honestly it's getting me nowhere really fast. Everytime I think, oh cool, maybe this will work out, it doesn't. I am wasting my time. Congratulations to them, but that doesn't make me feel any better.
good fucking night.


EDIT* after I posted this entry, I re-read the entry below it. and realized that my problems are reduced to pretty much grains of sand in comparison. But I still feel like a moron.

".. moments like this don't just come and go"

Fuck everything. For people who don't know, that kid Andrew Lowery from Richmond was in a car wreck. He is fine, but his girlfriend was not so lucky. After being on life support over night, she died this afternoon. For people who may not know him, he is Pat Lowery's little brother. Anyway, a good fucking kid and there is no reason for someone to have to die when they are sixteen years old. Obviously a really tough time for Andrew and only people who have been through that before will be able to give him advice on where to look. I don't even know what to say, but I feel like I have to say something. It makes me sick to my stomache to think how quickly things we love can be taken away from us. We hear it all the time, "tell your family you love them, because who knows when you or them will be gone", but you never really give it any thought until it really is too late. Fuck life. I never knew her, but I know Andrew and he really is a solid kid. Therefore, I will assume he would only be involved with an awesome girl. I don't know how I would feel in this situation so I don't know whether or not to tell you to hit him up and let him know you're thinking about him, but just keep him in mind. Shitty things happen to the best of us. Her name was Roni. Time flies.


Here is what Mark,one of her friends, had to say:

" today i lost one of my closest friends. our friendship's history can not be explained in words. its moments ranging from hilarity to sadness ran wild. she was like a bro to me and was always there to make me happy when i was upset or pissed off. she could give the best advice about anything, and everytime it always helped. she was an amazing person who some people never got to ever meet. most people only know roni through myspace or brief talks in public, but only a select few had the opportunity to connect with her and experience her kind and loving attitude. she was probably one of the funniest girls i have ever met in my entire life. she was unique. no one could ever compare to her. her personality was one that could never be matched. if you ever caught her, she was always happy and energetic. her smile and bright attitude always caught your eye and could make you happy. i could honestly probably not carry on a conversation with her without laughing until i cried. i could count on roni anytime to do anything if i needed help. she was a savior, if you will. at anytime she would always be willing to put herself before others. it wasnt an option. today i didnt just lose a friend though, but almost like a sister. her family and her parents divorce constantly upset roni and we would always talk about it and make things better. but no matter how bad the situation would be or how sad it would get, her humorous and positive mentality always burned through the dark clouds and it always seemed like things were never so bad. in 6th grade, i made a pact with her that i would always be her friend throughout high school no matter what, because in middle school people thought she was different and rejected her friendship. she was picked on and made fun of for looking "gothic" or whatever she was called back then, and didnt have many friends. i told her that she wasnt as weird as people said. but i never said she wasnt weird at all, haha. but the pact held strong every year. we would always have a class together some how, or if we didnt, we would somehow get switched in. we would always have the sweetest inside jokes and would never stop having fun. school is never ever going to be the same. but roni, i never let go of my promise to be your friend until the end, and never will. you will always remain in my hearts and thoughts, forever.

love you roni"

"...its fucking freezing."

I was fourteen years old when I heard Good Charlotte for the first time. Wait, keep reading. Later that year, they played at the upstairs of Canal Club in Richmond where the floor collapsed and people fell. They deserved it because Good Charlotte sucks. Anyway, I think we have a tendency to overlook simple things in life. When I was young my family would go on vacation and I would be out of my mind bored. Nature was worthless to me, all I needed was Nintendo NES and a duckhunt gun. My attitude barely changed until I was 15 and spent 12 days in New Mexico with the boy scouts at Philmont ranch. For those twelve days we hiked the beaten trails and slept in predetermined campsites. This seemed like cheating to me. Just like in Super Mario Brothers III when you could duck down on that one platform and fall behind the screen to get the magic flute to take you to the next world. The next year I was expelled from my high school. My therapist told my parents that maybe a few weeks on a hiking trip would be good for me. After some debate, I selected a trip to western Montana. Many posts below this one, there is a picture of me standing on a rock in the mountains there. For two weeks I did not see anything man made aside from airplanes and the things we brought with us. At nights, our gang of miscreants would make dinner for each other and shoot the shit about our lives back home. There was a time in our trip when we were forced to cross a glacier at a pretty high altitude. Unfortunately, a thunderstorm broke out just as we were beginning to cross. For fear of being left stranded in the open, we settled down temporarily. When you are on a sports team, did you ever hear the words "you are only as fast as your slowest member"? If there was ever an example of this being true it was now. Two of our companions didn't think they were capable of carrying their packs across the glacier, which in their defense was fairly steep and they both had injured themselves previously. After a quick brainstorm session we decided that three of us would cross the glacier with our packs, leave them at the other side, then come back for the packs of the two others. Myself and Tim along with our guid volunteered to return for the other packs once the group had crossed. We set out across the glacier and immediately regretted the decision. It was windy, sleeting and lighting frequently forced us on top of our packs to quell electric current in case of a strike nearby. An hour later we had made to the other side where we set up camp set back out for the other packs. Two hours of hiking with icepicks across the widest expanse of ice I had ever seen we were back with the group. Upon returning we noticed that everyone had eaten dinner without us. Upon asking where the rest of the food was, the common response was "oh shit". No good deed goes unpunished.

At the end of the trip, in order to "graduate", which was just a formality, we had to spend 48 hours alone in the woods. I wan't to remind you that the woods in Montana are very different that the woods in Virginia. This is one of the last real wildernesses in north america. I set up camp about a mile from a lake we had decided to camp near the night before. I picked the spot for the simple reason that it was the highest point around. A giant rock overlooking a valley, with two large trees to provide shade. We didn't have tents on this trip, only tarps and ground cloth's, so our protection was minimal. Having a large tree would also provide some shelter against rain. For two days I sat under my tree, on a rock that oddly resemble a chair and just got to think. My entire attitude on life changed, just like that. Fourteen days away from Television and Friendster (pre-myspace). Everyday I wish I could go back to Montana. I wish I could take my friends there. It's a shame how dependent we are on technology. Look at me right now, an online journal. No where near as cool as a real journal. fuck us.

"...no shelter."

I remember the first time I realized that this world was not like in cartoons. I realized that one day, I would be laying in a box underground rotting. I realized that on the way to that box, I could fight it, I could pretend that "its forever away", but in the end, I will look back and think, "jesus christ, I wish I could relive that day differently". I remember being a grown man of fifteen and saying to my friends "I have no regrets". That was the biggest lie I have ever told. I feel like we are all Siddhartha; hidden away from everything impure about the world. The sunny suburban neighborhoods that my friends and I thought we ran, fighting suburban jocks on the weekends for fun. It was like candyland to us. If you weren't in our circle of friends you didn't matter. The one moment I can't exactly recall is when I realized that my entire mentality was backwards. It's unfortunate to see alot of my friends still carry that attitude around with them.

"..let the boys be boys."

I remember when I was living in my first home, 204 tarrytown drive. Our house was built on a hill so the front yard slanted down towards the house. Our driveway went down the hill and at the end was a huge cliff. When I say huge cliff, I mean probably 8 feet, but it seemed like a canyon to a 6 year old. My father used to rake all the leaves down the driveway and push them over the cliff into the backyard. This resulted in a huge pile of leaves with a concrete diving board. My sisters and I used to play there all day every fall. The thing that I remember most about this time period was my parents fighting every night. They would try to hide it from us, but it lasted at least 10 more years. They tried desperately to keep that side of their relationship behind closed doors. When I was 17, they finally cut the ties. It's funny that we get so upset when our girlfriends or boyfriends break up with us after a six month relationship.
I think our generation is lost. We were raised by people who only pretend to have morals for our sake. Its no wonder that we are all so different than them. Look at the difference between our circle of friends and average people. They tell us we are fucked, that our parents must have gone wrong raising us. The bonds we have among friends is ten fold that of the guys who love to give us shit for having tattoos and riding skinny bikes. At the same time we can go to a different city and meet other kids and have friends for life. Those dudes who call us faggots for wearing hoodies and ripped up vans will never experience that. Prosecuting Attorneys and Judges who try to hold us down for defending our friends will never understand it. Its odd to think that is possible. They raised us to be like this. If someone is willing to defend me, I will unquestionably return the favor. In a culture of people who are so quick to put themselves before their friends, we are lost. I have never been so proud to not be accepted.

"...if love were a bridge.."

So, my friend has been having troubles with this guy who she has been dating for almost three years. The last few days have been really stressful for her so she and I have been talking over the situation. 5000 text messages, three different thought processes and a tearful phone-call later, I think they might be getting back together. Don't get me wrong. This girl is awesome and she definitely deserves to be happy. For some reason though, when she got off the phone with him and said "..everything might be working out..", it kind of bummed me out. I am fucking crazy.

Anyway, I just finished my work week. I also noticed that my right hand shakes uncontrollably sometimes.

Click on the picture so you can read it better.

I am sorry that I haven't been writing any in depth posts recently. I have just been too tired. Going to class every day in the mornings, then going directly to work until its time to go to bed has been taking its toll on me. I respect anyone who is willing to live this kind of lifestyle to support their families.

"oh.. well thanks."

I made about a thousand dollars in the last two weeks. Through working a fuck load. Unfortunately, after my loving republic has its way with my income, I received just under 3/4 of that.

hello mediocrity.

There was a time in my life when I thought that photography was genuinely enticing. I thought that the idea of capturing a moment in time that will never happen again was absolutely mind shattering. I remember the exact moment that I realized I never took pictures of moments in time worth remembering. People don't want to remember a rusted old mill in west virginia. People don't care about the old Lucky Strike factory or the 20 foot tall roller some hoodlum painted under a bridge. Nobody sees a hobo riding a train across the tressel and thinks, I wonder what kind of shit that old mother fucker has seen. I wonder if that says anything about me, caring about things that nobody else does, or if it says something about them.

"...sway with the rhythm of the waves."

When I finally hung the key ring to Candy the magical mystery van on the foam board push-pin, it marked the conclusion to an eleven hour shift at work, preceded by a 4 hour shift at school. I was moving at glacial pace when I finally got to the train, full of people who felt the exact same way I did. The only difference may have been they were heading back to their three year old kid and leftover food. I don't know exactly where I fit in that equation. This is me, Scott Henley, almost twenty one, skinny, stuck. Just living. No plan for the future. A mind full of regrets. I was inside the train, and I was still shivering. It is a strange feeling to think that if the train crashed to the demise of one hundred working class souls, it would be cleaned up, the Boston Globe would run the story on the front page, and the next day another train would pass over the spot where our lives ended.

"they have tried to put me down..."

My friend said this to me today in reference to the world. We love to talk about the world putting walls in front of us. This mystery force trying to keep us down. The man. Big brother. Jesus. Whatever mythical creature you assign as representative of the forces that control our lives. Really, its our parents. They don't understand what we have. They might never understand it. I could list 10 people who I have no doubt in my mind would put themselves in harms way to defend me. I am not trying to brag or jerk off my ego, but its true. Your generation doesn't have that and you are pissed off about it. Kids who have seen hardcore shows, kids who have let a guitar riff turn them into a monster... they have found the Dao. Once inside we may take different paths, some kids are naturally violent. This community does not breed monsters. Why don't you take a look at the fraternities you adamantly protect. Your generation raised us and we don't want to be like you. Do we not deserve the right to live how we want?

"last train of the night buddy..."

There was a time in my life when I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do. When I stepped outside of my front door I understood everything. I could walk with purpose and stepped over cracks in the sidewalk subconsciously. All I remember from those days are sunny afternoons, phone calls from Ashton and Strawberry Street Market. Today I walked out of my second floor apartment door into the light purple and green stairwell taking me down to the crumbling sidewalk which paves the way to the E train. I sat down in a seat in a corner of the last car and kept my head down to avoid conversation. A gray eyed man of maybe 60 sat down across from me, putting the two grocery bags he was carrying in the seat next to him. One bag was filled with small tin cans which I suspect were tuna and another bag with half a dozen loaves of bread. I looked up and stared into his face and it was cracked like the face of someone who has seen more fucked up shit than I could ever imagine. I pulled out the pack of citrus flavored gum I had picked up at the C-Store at Emerson College the day before. I gave myself a piece, locked eyes with the guy and offered him one. He said to me "Thank you, but I don't like oranges".

People I miss

This guys name is jonathan. Him and I had a fairly rocky start when we met almost two years ago. There was this girl that he dated for a little bit and then I started hanging with her. I don't know if there was beef per say or if it was just awkward. Anyway, I realized I was only hanging with her to piss of my ex girlfriend and she was only hanging out with me to piss off jonathan, so the chill kind of self destructed. A few weeks later, Jonathan and i were cool again. In the last few months we actually got a friendship tattoo which I am kind of pumped on. Anyway, the thing I miss most about this kid, is how him and I used to go to this restaurant in Richmond all the time called the village cafe. We would always go really late at night and talk about why we hated girls. I was still bumming on the ex I mentioned earlier and he was bumming on like 9 girls probably. This time period really sucked. Sometimes we would be in there, him drinking hot chocolate, and me drinking straight black coffee by the gallon, and we would see the girls who we were bumming on.




This guy is Robert Nolley. If you don't know who he is, I can seriously say your life is not as cool as it could be. Him and I actually became close in a very wierd way. I just remember one day being like, I fucking love this kid. We had probably hung out like once at that point. I remember people talking about how similar we were and I think we both noticed it too. Anyway, I was lucky enough to live with this kid for a pretty long time. Some of the best memories I have with people are really small moments in time. One day, I was bored so I went downstairs to his room and we decided that we wanted to take fashion shots. A few days prior to this, Roberts band Swamp Thing had played a show called United Blood, which was a fest at alley katz. The first words of the first song in their set, I ran across the stage and punched him in the face, which opened up a huge gash next to his eye. He spent the rest of their set bleeding profusely from it. Anyway, so him and I stood in the basement for an hour and just took pictures of each other standing against the brick wall down there. It was probably the most homo no-homo thing I have ever taken part of. But enough reminiscing. this guy always can give you advice. Even if you don't find it useful, you can't help be appreciative because he is ALWAYS bummed if you are bummed. He kind of reminds me of a guy i used to know....



Chris Radshaw. I met chris 6 years ago. We used to be in a crew together called BRC. This was when we were all about 15. I met him through Ashton and Luke Harton who knew him from school. At that time chris was a much different person than he was before he left for Uruguay. Chris was a fucking edgeman who was always down for adventures. One time our friend eric got into some trouble in school with a group of kids. So our crew rolled to a parking lot to meet these dicks. The leader of their wolfpack rolls up to us with all his boys backing him. We have bats and they are big dudes. The guy says to the group, "which one of you faggots is eric?". Chris steps up and says "I am eric" and blasts the guy. Chris proceeds to toss this guy, no competition. This night taught me a pretty valuable lesson. Just because you are big doesn't mean you can fight, Chris proved that. It also showed me how important his friends were to him. Chris could have been put in the hospital by these guys even if we had all stepped in. But fuck them. Eric was our friend, and Chris wasn't going to let him get fucked with by a bunch of Freeman High jocks.

Those days were alot different than they are now. Most of it is a giant blur of parking lot beef's and El Chapala mexican food. Driving around in my old car we dubbed the Brown Cow, which was notorious for catching on fire or unleashing a cloud of black smoke that we sometimes used to our advantage. The whole world was new and dangerous. We couldn't go anywhere without someone trying to start something with us. It is still kind of like that in richmond I guess. Except instead of west end jocks, its VCU frat dorks starting shit and then calling the cops when they get pwned.


What have we become?

Sometimes I think we haven't really changed that much. Except our taste in music got worse.....
And chris is mormon....And ashton is just now finishing a year long deployment with the Army National Guard.... and I moved to a different state.