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Carl's mind was in overdrive. If it would just get into harmony with his fucked body. That was the real torture of drink-and-drugs hangovers: the way they pushed your mind and body in different directions. Now Carl was considering the illusion of romance, which evaporates with the passing of youth. The ugliness of pragmatism and responsibility will wear down on you like waves on a rock if you let it. When you saw them on the screen telling us to be like this or do that, and buy this, and be that, and we sat at home, confused, complacent, tired and fearful, you knew they'd won. The big idea had gone and it was just about selling more product and controlling those who couldn't afford to buy. No utopias, no heroes. It wasn't an exciting time, as they constantly hyped it up to be, it was boring and exasperating and meaningless.
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