truth is the bully we all pretend to like a point like a 3 dimensional globe your finger landing on a different place each time free for taking, free for changing your mind multiple view points multiple heights
If that fat cherub with a plastic arrow delivers love, Puck will hold your hands into addiction.
have you ever been addicted? invisible relentless grip on your consciousness soul locked in grooves of never-ending loops out of the blue he sprung, like that shrewd knavish sprite, puck in midsummer’s night robin goodfellow but the name tells of another for goodness was never the intention sparkles and twinkles of the bewitching twin orbs which sees only love of thy self and not much of others the potent potion which he sneaked into my blinded eyes
have you ever been addicted the round little harmless looking circle which comes in various colours melting and releasing its works rising to breathe in their half hours amid your suffocated mind, seeking to infuse pleasure at all synapses
someone stole all the stop-signs tunes, melodies, basslines that dwells behind the back of one’s mind one sound washing you back to a shore of luminous seashells where the television screen sits on the abandoned beach fuzzle and dazzle with memories flashbacks replay forward and rewind bipolar character of mine delirium used to be delight
Surrounded by little dark molecules in the room listening to kraftwerk-computer love, reading that alvin toffler book - the third wave which i’m still trying to find over here and underground resistance - hi tech jazz playing in the background.
Written in 2002.
Internet became a new god and the old gods gradually were forgotten.
twist & slide bob & glide slip inbetween the spaces in time breathe the technolecules in which another thousand reside
i hold in my hands a million tendrils reaching out to the soul sitting at the other end the screen a portal to another night and day is it +8 to your time or minus 4 on my side?
in boredom, in procastination, with dues to addiction we all sit in front of our precious computers, plugged to each other 0 1 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 1 the alphas, the betas electronic breathes and pulses of the sublime technology nu-organism
the computer umbilical//the monster//invisible skin your wired poison//is this how time get feasted// they whispered about a computer love hi-tech funk across the galaxies the third wave has long begun.
Spent the hot and humid late afternoon pulling out old 45s and forgotten wax. Amanda Palmer @ Stereolounge tonight. Pixiedub has invited me to crash her set after. We will provide “signing” music as the celebrity couple (Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman) delight their fans with autographs and lovely looks at each other.
The dig began with noir-like sounds but got distracted to 70s porn music and a feminist-comedy-record which says BEAT YOUR BREAST on the cover…not sure if I can get away playing songs about tits and boobs-bashing in the classy bar. That said, am hoping the vibe will be laidback and I can drop some old Avalanches’ tunes and that lovely snippet from James Bond’s From Russia With Love.