Photography by Joslyn Kilborn
“A drug is neither moral nor immoral – it’s a chemical compound. The compound itself is not a menace to society until a human being treats it as if consumption bestowed a temporary license to act like an asshole.”
– Frank Zappa
I know it is orientation week. My sleep is reduced by the music that is loud enough to shake the ground, and the foundation of my house. I see students gathered in circles, and I know that at the centre of these circles is the source of the music.
Like moths to a flame. A moth may fly to close to a flame and be burnt instantly, but the students standing too close to the music will suffer long term hearing damage.
The reader may be inclined to use clichéd phrases like “party pooper” and “stick in the mud” to describe my outlook, but my concern is for the well being of my fellow students, really.
I’m just kidding. I don’t care if you go deaf. You have brought it upon yourself. I only wish that I could be there in twenty or thirty years, when you have lost the last of your hearing and you are cursing the negligent and self-indulgent behaviour of your youth.
My only regret is that you won’t be able to hear me laughing.
What makes us different? We stand at the border, confronting questions like:
“Should I binge drink until I vomit blood?”
“When that girl passes me, should I objectify her with a derogative term, thereby expressing my hatred toward women?”
“Should I scream at the end of this song?”
The sensible answer to both question is “No”. But rather than staying on my side of the border, the rational side, I have seen you cross the border.