In this age of decay while the world rots like a tooth in a glass of cola, a revolution has begun. It has started in the streets like all great movements. It is slow and in a drive by you do not notice that it exists, but if you step out of the car and walk the streets, you will find it hiding amongst used bookstores and in coffee houses. It is the generation without a name. The generation of X, marking the spot like a treasure chest. It is gold cryptically hidden on torn and yellowed pages. It is diamonds found in worn out sneakers. It is a generation who will make a name for themselves out of the letters at the end of the alphabet - Words will begin to take shape like constellations, like mixed metaphors. It is the generation of X. The malcolm of the nineties; the slave signature of the millennium. It is a generation that will say no to long-term investments and yes to everything else. We will write poetry and staple gun it to telephone poles. We will sit all day with unabridged dictionaries and bottomless coffee. We will be different from any other generation. They will call us lazy and apathetic, so we will paint pictures of them - abstract pictures on train cars, abandoned walls and bridge abutments.We will sign our name with an X, because anonymitity can be power. They have already grouped us together, and like all great movements, it is the segregation, the labels that give us strength.

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