Seriously...
The rage will carry me thru.
Don't worry.
The crank will never wear off, til I die violently.
It's a straight shot til then, more or less, as long as you grant some punctuated equilibrium of amphetamine injections. A few thousand of them in, I dunno, a few months, tops.
Confidence like a brownshirt. Will become a bloodstain, washed away with bleach the next day, another bloody brick in the wall's demolition, just a brick but maybe worth it, maybe the best I can do.
You can mathematize, can go stone crazy with that but you can never take away how freaky and flaky music still is. Will always be. Making music in between talking shop with some grasping clean freaks. Freaks like him, and me, and the machinist. Pride and joy, and guilt.
Sometimes it's all I can do. Play. Or the only thing to do.
Imagine myself surviving somehow, in the unlikely event that I can't be replaced with a robot. I'm not worried about the jews replacing me, I'm more worried about the paypal mafia. But I could be the pussiest patron's pet in the bunker, making music that finally makes sense in this moment, despite months of the best hive mind trying, and access to the entire global supply of stem cells - they can't reproduce the glitch that makes me special.
This present bliss is me being a beneficiary of my past self's generosity. Pax humana. Manna from my mind and body I gave to myself later. A lovely gift, feeling like life itself, the farcical form it's taken in this N-hole, to groove on some shit I laid down when I could. Come as you are. Now.
1 comment:
“a beneficiary of my past self’s generosity” is the only life i don’t mind living right now
the rage is all-consuming but directionless besides my meager means of self-expression, which the productive channels for in society are ancient aqueducts dammed by the detritus of the digital age and the dross of bread & circus i weaned myself away from in 2016 when whatever shambles of trust i had in the social fabric were shredded by disbelief and despair
maybe i will redirect it purposefully & clear the briars however i can even if i will never get the glory of storming the castle, learn to look out for those behind me like no one before us ever did
maybe i disappear into the northwest territories & take a chance on a bear
but i like pink floyd & those bricks too much
at the very least write my name on the wall (if only a splatter of dna) take a trophy of teeth on the way out
it’s good to read you inside the machines we’re forced to function through, a reverence for reconnection
thanks for coming over, guys, thanks for breaking my cow lamp
Post a Comment