聽見流年

1996 Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and eletrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life... I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? 2016 'Choose life' was a well meaning slogan from a 1980's anti-drug campaign and we used to add things to it, so I might say for example, choose... designer lingerie, in the vain hope of kicking some life back into a dead relationship. Choose handbags, choose high-heeled shoes, cashmere and silk, to make yourself feel what passes for happy. Choose an iPhone made in China by a woman who jumped out of a window and stick it in the pocket of your jacket fresh from a South-Asian Firetrap. Choose Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram and a thousand others ways to spew your bile across people you've never met. Choose updating your profile, tell the world what you had for breakfast and hope that someone, somewhere cares. Choose looking up old flames, desperate to believe that you don't look as bad as they do. Choose live-blogging, from your first wank 'til your last breath; human interaction reduced to nothing more than data. Choose ten things you never knew about celebrities who've had surgery. Choose screaming about abortion. Choose rape jokes, slut-shaming, revenge porn and an endless tide of depressing misogyny. Choose 9/11 never happened, and if it did, it was the Jews. Choose a zero-hour contract and a two-hour journey to work. And choose the same for your kids, only worse, and maybe tell yourself that it's better that they never happened. And then sit back and smother the pain with an unknown dose of an unknown drug made in somebody's fucking kitchen. Choose unfulfilled promise and wishing you'd done it all differently. Choose never learning from your own mistakes. Choose watching history repeat itself. Choose the slow reconciliation towards what you can get, rather than what you always hoped for. Settle for less and keep a brave face on it. Choose disappointment and choose losing the ones you love, then as they fall from view, a piece of you dies with them until you can see that one day in the future, piece by piece, they will all be gone and there'll be nothing left of you to call alive or dead. Choose your future. Choose life. 20years 20年後，充滿感傷的清澈氣質，孤單，躁動的Underworld的Born Slippy再度響起。那是20年前英倫一個清爽的早晨，馬克像所有振奮青年一樣大步走在寬闊的車流不息的路上。

相較於第一部簡直是一部毒品大全，四個醉生夢死的青年，在二十年後都有了更鮮明的人物性格，Sick boy還是個癮君子，懦弱。Spud依然愣愣的，無力地輓留過去的方寸。而Franco仍是psycho，偏執得可怕。而馬克呢，那個20年前彷彿帶著一種置之死地而後生的決絕離去卻也走回到了原點。時間悄悄地改變著他們，卻也沒有。

我曾在雜誌上讀到這樣一句話，願你出走半生，歸來仍是少年。看著這20年改變的不僅是容顔，20年後做出的選擇也悄悄改變。儘管他們依然無可救藥，瘋癲，糜爛還有癡狂，看著他們在螢幕上的歸來其實都一定不再是曾經的少年。衹是也千萬不要把他們變成妥帖的大人，不要和他們談成長的價值，不要指望，他們從此改頭換面，浪子回頭。