Continuation

They had film noir, we have bubblegum grit. The reimagined neon splash trope of genuine emotion, skewed to service this demographic. No future.

A signature, proof - a pretty face and a puddle of blood. This fine artistic noose we fashion for ourselves, playing hangman with our style until the bloated corpse of our body of work becomes a derisive epithet for "selling out/buying in/feeding the floating shark". That's a lot of integrity for people who grow up wanting to be famous of something, instead of becoming something.
Crayola's Dildo: Growing Up in Technicolor.
You begin saving the world by saving one person at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics. Bukowski
I still want someone to draw this comic for me, about a gay superhero called the Ice Queen that transforms smoking crystal meth.

It's not the greeting card, or the radio hits that are responsible for this feeling. Everything meaningful was a moment in time. By something crafted and precise, we approximate the intangible happiness of a single perfect moment. If we blame the media, we neglect the action. We want to be happy, happy is there, we stay for as long as we allow ourselves. It's that simple.