The party is over

I don’t want to be the one to bear this news, so I won’t. 

Instead, I defer to the Swedish rapper Yung Lean, who appeared on the internet talk show SubwayTakes to provide host Kareem Rahma with the following message: “The party is officially over.” 

For a long time, I too clung to the residual denial found in morning-after empties, tar-stained bongs and humid house parties. 

I flirted with drunks twice my age in the corners of dive bars, wallowed with deadheads on the smoking decks and searched for transcendental levels of intoxication in dime bags and sandwich ziplocks. 

But now, after nearly half a decade of debauched “adventuring,” I have come to the same grim realization as Yung Lean: The party is over. 

You might believe me to be a narc when I say this, but the opposite is true. Right now, the most radical path a partier can take is to button down and make themselves a cup of tea before getting an early night’s sleep. 

Perhaps the climax of our culture’s party has already passed — peaking in the ‘60s and ‘70s, with its cocaine, acid and free love flowing from the freshly-opened fire hydrant of societal repression. 

Consider the seminal events of our modern age of individualistic hedonism: the Diddy trial, Yung Lean’s sobriety and the Epstein files. These events display how an attitude of indulgence and hyper-individualism severed from any sort of societal grounding seems only to end in sex crimes, psychosis and corruption. 

The party lifestyle, particularly when mixed with the hubris of youth, is also a primer for substance misuse. 

In the long run (which is never as long as you think), this can stunt development, have severe health effects and hinder the cultivation of skills required for a functional life, like emotional regulation, communication and self-reflection. 

Besides, partying is expensive. 

Who can afford drugs with inflation? If I still smoked and drank, I wouldn’t have the funds to rendezvous with my Colombian connection in the Bolivian salt flats. 

This is not, however, a condemnation of all vices. I admit, sapience is a condition that requires anaesthetic. This is a recommendation for us to find our own prototypical analgesics without resorting to horse tranquilizers. 

I’ve gotten to the point where now a strong cup of coffee is enough to make me doubt the existence of corporeal reality, and sometimes the right cocktail of post-exercise endorphins can have a similar effect.

In the spirit of Yung Lean, it’s time we start romanticizing simple and wholesome things. 

The real party is enjoying the time you spend awake and sober. 

Admittedly, this can be a high bar — but just like drinking, it takes practice to get good. 

Find activities that allow you to focus. Start that hobby you’ve always had an interest in. Go for a walk, a run. Go to bed at a reasonable hour. Start woodworking, pottery, hat-making or finally writing that screenplay you’ve been thinking about since you were 16. 

Make no mistake, I am not some puritan false prophet — just a former partier who has come out the other side of the college party lifestyle and realized indulgence is not all that our culture told us it would be.

There is nothing salvational about dropping acid by the dockyards. 

There is no transcendence to be found in Smirnoff Ice and Belmonts. 

There is no end to these practices that young people have been taught to value as rites of passage. 

There is only consumption, and I think it’s about time we start finding value in making things, be it meaningful connections with practices and people, or a new coffee mug. 

The party is over for now, but just wait until you’re a pensioner, and it might just start up again. You’re never too old for some decadent indulgence. 

The best partiers I know are two hippies who grew up in East Germany and didn’t start smoking grass until they were in their mid-thirties. 

Who knows, opium would probably be a massive kick to an octogenarian, a real way to spice up the exit ramp of life. 

While using an old concert ticket to snort ketamine in the bathroom stalls of the Local is fun while it lasts, there are far better goals to pursue. 

Such activities can wait until you’ve actually achieved some of your dreams. 

The party is over. The new cool is taking care of ourselves.