we [clarification]

i watched Rent (the movie version) last night and either:

the bohemian romance of New York is a clever fiction,
a lie we

[Generation X]

tell ourselves in an attempt to grapple with the fact
that we

[Americans]

live in a nation where the indomitable efficiency of
interstates and television has obliterated the
peculiarities of geographic separation. we

[artists]

loathe to believe this, and write musicals and songs
and books

[and blogs]

pretending it isn't so. we

[would-be critics]

watch with a mix of terror, excitement, and
trepidation as a quilt emerges from our collective
musings - a quilt pieced together from pop culture
references, allusion, consumption, cleverity,
pathological irony, and non-historicized personal
experience. we

[the tragic curious]

are left to wonder if it was ever so, or
if it was only a dream we

[the unreformed romantics]

invented in an attempt to keep from
shivering in the night;

the pastiche quilt of post-modernity makes for a poor bedfellow.

OR

i

[the author]

wrote the above in an attempt to distance myself from
the sadness i

[the human]

felt.