i've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not a victory march, and it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

You know that feeling when there was just someone you just NEEDED to know, but now you can't know them because they're dead?

This is how I feel about Trudeau.

It's this like sick emotional longing feeling like I really needed to know him. Which ofcourse is impossible and even would have been-- I was only 11 years old when he died. I cried, I already knew who he was, i'd already read a biography. And thus the obsession began, my own little Trudeau-mania. But sometimes obsessivity can make you feel sick.

And now I feel sick.

I hate feeling helpless, it's the most frustrating feeling, and yet here I am, feeling it, lamenting as to why I couldn't have been Margaret Sinclaire! I think I should've been her. A flower child married to a much older man in a position of liberal political power? It's what should be the story of MY life damnit!

But there is one conclusion I draw from this as well as from all my likes and dislikes. I should've been born long before I was. I am an old soul. I would rather stay home and discuss Yeats, listen to Bob Dylan and contemplate the differences between Nietszche and Sartre's views of existentialism than go to a party to try a new drug and listen to some new music which honestly sounds alot more like an electric mixing board than true creative genius to my ears.

I think I would've been alot happier to have been born in the 50's, to have grown up into adulthood throughout the 60's, to have experienced real activism, to have worn paisley and smoked more pot than my mind can comprehend at this moment. To have no internet, no technology, to have to read a real newspaper and send letters in the mail.

Even thoughI have never lived in it, I long for the world before the one we live in today. The world where people FELT and CARED and CREATED because it was in their blood to. Not to get paid.