And so maybe I'm exagerating, and maybe I don't get out enough myself, but where I live has got to be the most cultureless civilization in all the mighty state of California.
Thanks, but no thanks to the internet, I have since discovered a world out there I would have never known without it, except for whatever the TV would have to tell me. Since the dawn of puburty, I have slowly uncovered layers and layers of music, fashion, literature, and all other forms of art to nuture me with what my hometown lacked. But, internet be damned, it tortured as it nutured [ooh, I rhyme.], and, in this past year especially, I have found myself more and more lustful of what I could not live myself. Living vicariously through the web can bring pleasure only so long.
Then, a strange thing happened: I got out more. As much as a car-less, lisense-less 15-year-old can, anyway. And, in my wise oh-so-wise age of 15, I'm begining to see that through the cracks of white-bread, white-washed, white-trash that makes of up the surface of this city, there is culture.
And this is my quest to unearth it.
[Or create it, at any rate.]