Freeing a Frozen World
What is scribble to some is content to others. Memorable content must
cast spells. Anything worthy of memory imprint has to take you
someplace else. Content will always be nostalgia for some. There's no
shame in that. Not when we live in a world made up of manufactured
heroes and magnified martyrs, where misplaced madness competes with
omnipotent apathy.
I'm not content to chit chat with laptops on
desktops balancing radio and rocket technology with human discourse.
Etching my joint on servers meant to serve but set to master the way we
relate has its moments but it's better to keep moving.
Being in
it for the witchcraft is too clich� today. It's hard to keep up and
keep your pulse hitched to the delusion. Being a maximalist as opposed
to a minimalist, getting the most out of the least, is the story I'm
forced to write.
I peep the racks before I rack and spy news
stands crammed with stapled fluff. No protein, just press releases
regurgitated verbatim. The glossy zines gleam with cd samplers and
scratch and sniff desires, assuming we need soundtracks and sensory
motivation to pass time.
Skill and budget are always at war
within the media. Independent presses churn will, drill and spill, but
the market is capped. I get tapped out just trying to smoke my
resources and make sense of what I see. I can only believe what I feel
and distrust my ears and eyes. Getting jaded by humanity isn't a sport
for mere cynics. The hope of the market is in the airbrushed gaze
staring back at us. Buying in to the lie is the great capital dream.
But there is nothing false about a nightmare. Our fears
refuse. They can be denied or hidden but they will never lose shape or
form. And just as the glossy monthly exists for potential consumption,
the reality of real time passing poses the challenge of getting in synch
with the rotation.
Music makes much sense as a way to cope.
The active manipulation of rhythmic, harmonic, melodic stimuli is a spit
in the eye at gravity and time. Humanity's ridiculous notion that time
can be harnessed and gravity loosened is not just the stuff of science.
Poetry, architecture, and film share in the dance with time and
flirtation with gravity. Sometimes even graffiti freezes the world.
The earth shakes, rattles and rolls past the problems of today.
So it is that we must pretend to master our sense of time, space, light
and matter and satisfy ourselves with flippant distractions that impress
as much as they express. Our imaginations need the employment for fear
nature is at odds with who we have become.
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