Blasé

It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be disco­vered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously deri­va­tive […]. We were the first human beings who would never see anyt­hing for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underw­helmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyra­mids, the Empire State Buil­ding. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collap­sing, volca­noes erup­ting. I can’t recall a single amazing thing I have seen first­hand that I didn’t imme­dia­tely refe­rence to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. You know the awful sing­song of the blasé: Seeeen it. I’ve lite­rally seen it all, and the worst thing […] is: The second­hand expe­rience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundt­rack mani­pu­late my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. I don’t know that we are actually human at this point, those of us who are like most of us, who grew up with TV and movies and now the Internet. If we are betrayed, we know the words to say; when a loved one dies, we know the words to say. If we want to play the stud of the smart-ass or the fool, we know the words to say. We are all working from the same dog-eared script.

It’s a very difficult era in which to be a person, just a real, actual person, instead of a collec­tion of perso­na­lity traits selected from an endless automat of charac­ters.

(Gillian Flynn: Gone Girl)

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