A Jackson Pollock Splattered Milestone

In a few weeks’ time, you, my dear Centurio, will reach maturity. The second quarter, the silver phase, except we’re being practical here, so let’s call it steel. C21 25 - you could mark that on the handle of a spoon, a ladle, a workman’s tool. Or should that be work-person? No matter, I digress. The branding for now – and I do mean for now – is almost entirely human so do feel free to incorporate it into your latest sheep-in-wolf’s-clothing tattoo, and howl at the moon all you will. As if so much hot air could balloon its celestial body full, your virtual strings bring it floating on down to Earth for you to poke and prod at, reshape and galvanize like the back of your mass-produced mirrors, the front of which reveal your many million myriad faces and their ever-conflicting expressions. I have one in my pocket right now, and one on my wrist. It brings me out in a rash. Not stainless then, and by no means precious. Nickel-cheap fake.

Finders keepers – you’re all about that. You stake claim to what belonged to your forebears, yet scoff and sneer at their graves, delude yourself that you’ve learned from their mistakes. Take the old three ‘r’s’ – what was that all about? RAW? The lion’s roar? Never did make much sense, and certainly not for one who’s intent on stirring the pot till it reaches boiling point whilst sounding out their ‘I’s’ with the mouse-like squeak of the phonetic ‘i’. Alright, my friend, I have some new ‘r’s’ for you, ones I prepared earlier as the saying went (and still goes):

Robustitude - I know, I know, it’s not a term you recognize, but, come on now, thoughtless and lax reinvention does seem to be your thing, so you can take that angry red line away and keep your suggested alternatives.

 Resilience - There, is that better? Rolling with the punches, facing each day with zip and zeal, although what’s the bet you won’t read past the zeds?

I could throw ‘recreation’ in there as well, and ‘reproduction’, but I reckon those go without saying. Or maybe they don’t. I mean, both could be misconstrued depending on where you choose to place the emphasis, and I know how you like to twist things.

And finally – Resourcefulness. Fate is resourceful. It weighs things up, ensures a fair balance, an even distribution. So, if you do wish to play the blame game whenever your bright young moon reveals its dark side, there’s your perfect excuse.

Oh, Centurio, what happened? We awaited your birth with such delight and anticipation, and with the innocent girlish/boyish ideal that you would bring with you a magic potion to detoxify and illuminate, wash clean your humble Aquarian subjects, and finally make us complete. Then when you came there were fireworks, celebration, the likes of which we’d never known. And we crowned you, did we not? Our special one.

Didn’t last for long. Whilst our oceans were ever-increasing, we found them poisoned. Something fishy here, approaching Pisces.

I’m sorry, didn’t mean to offend. I know how sensitive you are, but you must admit, you did make quite a mess, and clearing up, while you might believe it’s the right thing to do, isn’t exactly your strong suit.

Up to us, you say? Well, come on now. That would take some doing, some vast combined effort, would it not? Got to admire your nerve though, your artful artistry. I must admit, you did make a good job of repainting that rainbow. Bit heavy on the dividing lines – shame about that, and how, too often, depending on where it’s placed, the colours seem to clash… Hey, no need to tear it up now. Temper, temper…

How long ago did you say ‘the future’s bright’ when now it’s all ‘hot to go’? Note the lower case when I quote, wouldn’t do to give the impression that you might be on your uppers. Or insinuate that you, such an advocate of remaining modest till proven mega-influential, might regard yourself in any way superior. Too young yet. (Although this might not apply to your people.) Still, beware the passage of time; it’s much shorter than you think and you’ll be a has-been before you know it. Can’t turn around now. You can only try to alter the view.

It's so grey out there, isn’t it? So hazy in the maze. Load up those machines and fire. Just like playing paintball when you surround yourself with screens. Inject yourself desensitized. Hang out the bunting and two hundred different flags – maybe more. Alter their designs and try praying on a banner tied to narrow railings. Throw some crutches in there too. Flimsy ones, unstable, a good match for the Emperor’s New Clothes, and those weighty ones to be used as weapons. Find them crisscrossed, blocking light at the exit. Can’t place it without the help of Google Maps? Must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. No sense of direction, have you? See, in some ways you’re just like your father. Can’t deny the resemblance. Your lasered moles all leave a scar and your hipster beard can’t hide that great carbuncle.

You’re not all bad, though, are you? You do pave the way with good intentions, you promote the natural as well as the artificial, talk peace as well as war, and you do sometimes serve to remind us that culture has more than one meaning, so allow me to gift you this - your milestone made from granite. Sustainable, so it’s bound to impress, this being amongst your top ten words. (Can’t beat ‘narcissist’ though - that’s always number one.) And its colours, so many and varied – quite the abstract explosion. Pity it doesn’t form a clear picture.

But regard the inscription – MMXXV – that’s really something! No, please don’t dismiss it as a pointless relic. After all, it means so much. Could be sweetness and kisses, all victorious. Could also translate as the hum of uncertainty, getting it wrong, and the mark of feckless disrespect all rolled into one. But I’ll let you decide for yourself. The choice, as always, is yours.