Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The blue sky of love in a commercial beat
THE BLUE SKY OF LOVE IN A COMMERCIAL BEAT
For the first day in forever the sky was a perfect green. The sun shone down from in between the obtuse paraphernalia/ creating halos of white light around their slogans. Tiager squinted, and the garbled characters looming above manipulated themselves into solarplexed flyers.
[Just a slightly different viewpoint can change a world]
Like angels tainted by a desire to promote mainstream commodities to the general public, the sugar coated slogan quickly turned sour. Tiager turned her memory to London 2028, it was the day they painted the sky blue. In a joint initiative, thrill disc jockeys and self inflicting artists posed as the McDonald's corporation leaving the populous in the dark for one night. In the morning the whole of London woke to a blue sky. The city was cast in a vibrant echo of blue reflections. It was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. It ultimately led to the temporary collapse and destruction of London's innards.
Tiager was tangled in his arms. She lay there pressed against him, her skin drawn taught where their bodies embraced. The covers were crumpled on the edge of the bed where they lay from moments before. She was still breathing heavily/ just happy to be in his arms. She looked up at Aito with a smile of contentment. His black hair glistened a shimmering blue. She reveled in the way the light fell on his naked body accentuating every muscle and turn. Today it was bathed in an eerie blue light. The sight brought her to a visual climax ricocheting through her slight frame/ evoking and capitalising on her joy from moments before. The light lingered and sleepily she cuddled closer to him/ relishing her waking blue dream. It was only hours later when she re awoke to the violent flash of blue, streaming in their window that she realised. She woke him excitedly and together they stepped into a world bathed in a blue sky.
Ironically the McDonald's corporation stole the glory and fame from the thrill disk jockeys and the manic self inflicting artists, indeed proclaiming its guilty blue conscience to the world. Outdoors the billboards were running hot, busy leaving short text messages condoning the blue sky
For the first day in forever the sky was a perfect green. The sun shone down from in between the obtuse paraphernalia/ creating halos of white light around their slogans. Tiager squinted, and the garbled characters looming above manipulated themselves into solarplexed flyers.
[Just a slightly different viewpoint can change a world]
Like angels tainted by a desire to promote mainstream commodities to the general public, the sugar coated slogan quickly turned sour. Tiager turned her memory to London 2028, it was the day they painted the sky blue. In a joint initiative, thrill disc jockeys and self inflicting artists posed as the McDonald's corporation leaving the populous in the dark for one night. In the morning the whole of London woke to a blue sky. The city was cast in a vibrant echo of blue reflections. It was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. It ultimately led to the temporary collapse and destruction of London's innards.
Tiager was tangled in his arms. She lay there pressed against him, her skin drawn taught where their bodies embraced. The covers were crumpled on the edge of the bed where they lay from moments before. She was still breathing heavily/ just happy to be in his arms. She looked up at Aito with a smile of contentment. His black hair glistened a shimmering blue. She reveled in the way the light fell on his naked body accentuating every muscle and turn. Today it was bathed in an eerie blue light. The sight brought her to a visual climax ricocheting through her slight frame/ evoking and capitalising on her joy from moments before. The light lingered and sleepily she cuddled closer to him/ relishing her waking blue dream. It was only hours later when she re awoke to the violent flash of blue, streaming in their window that she realised. She woke him excitedly and together they stepped into a world bathed in a blue sky.
Ironically the McDonald's corporation stole the glory and fame from the thrill disk jockeys and the manic self inflicting artists, indeed proclaiming its guilty blue conscience to the world. Outdoors the billboards were running hot, busy leaving short text messages condoning the blue sky
Our food tastes better when you're blue ~ Brought to you by McDonald's Corporation ~ you're loving it!
Other corporations quickly joined the advertising wagon/ claiming the stunt as their own. Blue sky was the unanimous war cry of millions of billboards, signs and screens across the city. The artists sat on the grass and discussed the ramifications/ getting high on depression and their lack of recognition. In the street the children of the post fluxusites were removing the VR world simulations (rewired to show the view out of someone else's fish bowl ~ their life was always a ball) and engaging their traditional senses/ stimulating feelings that were even more surreal than the virtual world they had lost themselves in. For once they revelled in the moments their Fluxus ancestors tried to promote. That which could change the very world you were in/ that made the everyday interesting and new. An EXPERIENCE
Aito and Tiager had wondered the streets that day. The blue light had fluttered across her skin in bizzare patterns and shades. The blue sky had cast a doubble shaddow on alll.. They had walked through the melancholy blueness ^that had indadvertedly made the whole of London happy. People had stopped working/ stopped sleeping/ stopped cleaning/ stopped avoiding the everyday// started looking/ started really looking at their world. It was the most economically pointless day on record.
What McDonald's claimed was a simple marketing stunt [cult classic] started to de s solve th e very fab ri c o f L on do n . Of course the government cracked down on it straight away ~ silently and not so swiftly ~ and while Tiager and Aito were basking in blue light Government Officials were busy debating policies that would increase their pay and return their citizens to the pubs. Their strategy was free beer {and a 115% pay rise}. Effective. A few stray souls, magnetised by the sky's beauty lingered in the streets. The remaining conglomerate was easily swayed towards the enticing call of free malt. They came to the bars with a skip, jump and hops and drunk hard. The city's people entered into quizzes/ scribbling down answers/ category : Politics : Future History : Knowledge of the Common : Human behaviour/ they failed miserably. Pop music was tube fed to their ears, their eyes were abused by booty shaking Video Clips. Their beer was loaded with social lubrication and they stayed long into the night - obliterating any fond memory they had of the day.
Tiager and Aito found themselves in the midst of Soho. They watched the street dancers perform for no one at all. As usual Tiager had so much to say but no words to say it with/ she remained silent. Aito whispered stories and plans for the future/she made the soundtrack to their lives in her head. She could honestly say that she was happy at that moment/ with him/ with life/ with no one else but them and the odd piece of culture/ with happiness.
Meanwhile in the sky technical response teams struggled to dismantle the contraption of blueness. After numerous attempts of verbal commands, they decided on a softer approach. The nano nuclear bombs were deployed. They were catapulted from invisible stealth bombers. The NNBombs flew through the air silently before clasping onto the devices with their macro-microscopic legs. If they could have been seen by naked eyes they would have scurried into the crevices and implanted themselves in the metal. But they can't so no one really knows what they did.
Tiager found herself mid smile/ cocooned in the memories of the past.
Aito and Tiager had wondered the streets that day. The blue light had fluttered across her skin in bizzare patterns and shades. The blue sky had cast a doubble shaddow on alll.. They had walked through the melancholy blueness ^that had indadvertedly made the whole of London happy. People had stopped working/ stopped sleeping/ stopped cleaning/ stopped avoiding the everyday// started looking/ started really looking at their world. It was the most economically pointless day on record.
What McDonald's claimed was a simple marketing stunt [cult classic] started to de s solve th e very fab ri c o f L on do n . Of course the government cracked down on it straight away ~ silently and not so swiftly ~ and while Tiager and Aito were basking in blue light Government Officials were busy debating policies that would increase their pay and return their citizens to the pubs. Their strategy was free beer {and a 115% pay rise}. Effective. A few stray souls, magnetised by the sky's beauty lingered in the streets. The remaining conglomerate was easily swayed towards the enticing call of free malt. They came to the bars with a skip, jump and hops and drunk hard. The city's people entered into quizzes/ scribbling down answers/ category : Politics : Future History : Knowledge of the Common : Human behaviour/ they failed miserably. Pop music was tube fed to their ears, their eyes were abused by booty shaking Video Clips. Their beer was loaded with social lubrication and they stayed long into the night - obliterating any fond memory they had of the day.
Tiager and Aito found themselves in the midst of Soho. They watched the street dancers perform for no one at all. As usual Tiager had so much to say but no words to say it with/ she remained silent. Aito whispered stories and plans for the future/she made the soundtrack to their lives in her head. She could honestly say that she was happy at that moment/ with him/ with life/ with no one else but them and the odd piece of culture/ with happiness.
Meanwhile in the sky technical response teams struggled to dismantle the contraption of blueness. After numerous attempts of verbal commands, they decided on a softer approach. The nano nuclear bombs were deployed. They were catapulted from invisible stealth bombers. The NNBombs flew through the air silently before clasping onto the devices with their macro-microscopic legs. If they could have been seen by naked eyes they would have scurried into the crevices and implanted themselves in the metal. But they can't so no one really knows what they did.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Rhythm Symbols ~ An Introduction To The Mess (read this first)
As yet there is no logical order to this series of writings ~ tentatively entitled Rhythm Symbols. Please browse through and read at your leisure with the understanding that this book is in its completely unedited format.
All comments and suggestions are welcomed
All comments and suggestions are welcomed
Unpleasant Advice Is A Good Medicine For Failure
UNPLEASANT ADVICE IS A GOOD MEDICINE FOR FAILURE
The passing metropolis slowly shuddered to stagnant outside her window/ a rush of busy feet shuffled along beside her/ Tiager pulled her body up from the sticky vinyolium of the seat/ head hung low/ clutching her bag/ as though it were the last thing of importance/ joining the others trudging down the isle of the bus/
The cold metallic coins felt cumbersome in her hand/ she gladly emptied them into the slot beside the driver/
[how many hands have touched over these coins]
Instantly the rain fell/ it had been waiting for her/ she felt a cold droplet slither down the back of her neck/ it drew her from her insular thoughts and made her shudder/ she left the street quickly hoping not to be seen/ Tiager stepped silently to the glass doors in front of her/ water dripping from her hair/ she grasped for the metal handles/ her damp hands slipped slightly as she pulled the doors apart and edged her way through/ she paused only momentarily to glance at the gaudy fur-print jackets and matching bags/
[Paris Hilton in a Squarepusher fuck you clothes mix]
Trying to remove that ghastly image from her head she hurriedly entered Seattle's Worst and scanned the room for him/ he was standing at the counter trying desperately to communicate with the guy behind it/ instantly Tiager's heart warmed/ his midnight blue hair glistened under the violent lights/ she reached around him and pulled his body close to hers before he even had time to see who it was/ though the touch was enough for him to tell/ and he squeezed her tight/ forgetting again her broken ribs/ she winced in pain/ then instantly forgot it/
Tiager grinned at the guy behind the counter and dragged Aito to a plastic, wood-veneer seat in the corner/
[why can't all cafes be designed for comfort and aesthetic pleasure]
The guy glared at her/ spiteful she didn't order anything/ and said "Welcome to Seattle's Worst ~ drink it down to smile" in an honestly kind and liquid sweet voice/ Tiager took Aito's coffee from the tray with a cheeky grin and slurped down just the caramel and froth from the top/ she handed it back to him with a loving smile/ brushing her hand against his leg and giving him a little squeeze/
She knew he had met her here to give her bad news/ his dark eyes were sorrowful/ he coughed deeply and a few letters escaped from his mouth/ Tiager was worried/ she tried to avoid locking eyes for fear he would see the signs in hers/ the sickness had latched onto his frail body already/ but he was too stubborn/ or too wise/ to get it seen to again/ he had refused the blue jab from the beginning/ even when they were safe back home/ Tiager had jumped at the chance to be protected/ she had endured the pain of the slender needle as it passed through her skin/ and almost enjoyed watching the swirl of moving liquid caress through her veins/ for days after she watched the glittering/ iridescent liquid traverse through her body/ slowly latching onto her internal mainframe and there starting to fade out of sight/ into the opaque wealth of her system/
She curled up to him/ aware of the disapproving stares/ and waited for his news/
The passing metropolis slowly shuddered to stagnant outside her window/ a rush of busy feet shuffled along beside her/ Tiager pulled her body up from the sticky vinyolium of the seat/ head hung low/ clutching her bag/ as though it were the last thing of importance/ joining the others trudging down the isle of the bus/
The cold metallic coins felt cumbersome in her hand/ she gladly emptied them into the slot beside the driver/
[how many hands have touched over these coins]
Instantly the rain fell/ it had been waiting for her/ she felt a cold droplet slither down the back of her neck/ it drew her from her insular thoughts and made her shudder/ she left the street quickly hoping not to be seen/ Tiager stepped silently to the glass doors in front of her/ water dripping from her hair/ she grasped for the metal handles/ her damp hands slipped slightly as she pulled the doors apart and edged her way through/ she paused only momentarily to glance at the gaudy fur-print jackets and matching bags/
[Paris Hilton in a Squarepusher fuck you clothes mix]
Trying to remove that ghastly image from her head she hurriedly entered Seattle's Worst and scanned the room for him/ he was standing at the counter trying desperately to communicate with the guy behind it/ instantly Tiager's heart warmed/ his midnight blue hair glistened under the violent lights/ she reached around him and pulled his body close to hers before he even had time to see who it was/ though the touch was enough for him to tell/ and he squeezed her tight/ forgetting again her broken ribs/ she winced in pain/ then instantly forgot it/
Tiager grinned at the guy behind the counter and dragged Aito to a plastic, wood-veneer seat in the corner/
[why can't all cafes be designed for comfort and aesthetic pleasure]
The guy glared at her/ spiteful she didn't order anything/ and said "Welcome to Seattle's Worst ~ drink it down to smile" in an honestly kind and liquid sweet voice/ Tiager took Aito's coffee from the tray with a cheeky grin and slurped down just the caramel and froth from the top/ she handed it back to him with a loving smile/ brushing her hand against his leg and giving him a little squeeze/
She knew he had met her here to give her bad news/ his dark eyes were sorrowful/ he coughed deeply and a few letters escaped from his mouth/ Tiager was worried/ she tried to avoid locking eyes for fear he would see the signs in hers/ the sickness had latched onto his frail body already/ but he was too stubborn/ or too wise/ to get it seen to again/ he had refused the blue jab from the beginning/ even when they were safe back home/ Tiager had jumped at the chance to be protected/ she had endured the pain of the slender needle as it passed through her skin/ and almost enjoyed watching the swirl of moving liquid caress through her veins/ for days after she watched the glittering/ iridescent liquid traverse through her body/ slowly latching onto her internal mainframe and there starting to fade out of sight/ into the opaque wealth of her system/
She curled up to him/ aware of the disapproving stares/ and waited for his news/
Prefabricated technological advances in obsolete mechanics
PREFABRICATED TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCES IN OBSOLETE MECHANICS
She looked around the room for a place to plug in and press play/ bemused to find only a single method. She picked up the technological looking device and fingered a few buttons. A full colour digital display blinked on. The morphing display screen deciphered itself into a language she could almost actually read. ***Nambu Curriculum Organization for the Advancement of Non-Digital Sound*** scrolled across the screen. Tiager breathed a sigh of relief/ finally a way to listen. Finding no joy through wireless connection she fumbled with a few other buttons on the machine ~ looking for a way to insert her arovane music chip. A draw shuffled itself out of the sleek lines of the machine. Tiager looked on in horror. This was a tape player. She looked at the little cogs ticking around inside the machine amazed that such obsolete technology could still function. What was more shocking was that the machine appeared to be brand new…the cogs were shining in metallic gleam not yet ravished by micromechaic nanobugs that ate through old mechanics. The facade alluded to ultra postmodernism in a fashion that could only be from this century.
Struggling with the concept Tiager reverted to a method she had picked up on the internet ~ a hackers guide to hot-wiring the past. Sliding her nail along her microchip she exposed just a fragment of the microchip's interior spine. The miniscule piece of arovane clambered onto an unused tape/ it looked helplessly up at her from the machine. It was a huge sacrifice, to let that piece be lost into a medium that would slowly self distruct in time, but one she was willing to make given her need.
Reference materials for safer inhabitation of the ...
She tried desperately to move her fingers across the keys in some coherent fashion: a micro-produced column of taps echoed silently through the room. Only symbols_ that were unrepresenting of her written communication attempts_ sprung up in a dialogue box [] they would not even stay stagnant on the screen long enough for her to type in symbol code=that might later be deciphered//www.urges of the unsustantiating internet rose and fell.com she opened her body to the connection and wasted away an hour or four on the download. The noise in the room increased. Not a nice, melodic, unassuming noise: but a disturbing hum that drew her from her connection. It was then she relapsed into the current time. Feeling again the sickness: it was overwhelming: it came at her in brutal waves of non-lucid day un-dreaming.
She returned to the details, unsatisfied with the thickening plot. Tiager realized it was not like her to have a master plan anyway. She decided instead of writing to weave a screen of rubbish into a thoughtless rough and unfinished picture. What else could you do with windows anyway: she looked out of them and dreamed of an Apple.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
The Mighty Existance of Tiny Particles
Particles erupted around her. She was leaking charisma and quickly. The sickness gripped onto her and was stubborn not to let go. The reoccurring daymare of mindfuzz.
The sickness had slowed down her brainwaves to a distant hum. Had she not have been overcome with a feeling of dullirritation and sadness she could have sat there staring into the oblivion of the room for the rest of the day. She peered over at the obsolete security monitor. Nothing moved asides from the pixellized digits of the clock. It counted down the seconds of her life - over half an hour slow.
[What would you do with an extra half an hour. Waste life - love time]
Men rushed around the room, their tools clasped tightly in their hands. An assortment of analogue dials masking digital signals were strewn around the room. Holes had been cut in the floor to reveal a mass of cables and wires. The men busied themselves with wire cutters. Taking more time to observe and walk around the room muttering code to no one but themselves than actually doing any work. The busied themselves installing an elaborate cable and wire system for their new wireless network.
Tiager sat there trying her best to be unnoticed.
The trial rib "bones" inserted into her ached. They were slowly being consumed by the rest of her human self. Her muscles commenced a slow system reboot, turning rock hard around the anomaly of wires and digital cartilage that had been her new bones. The simple pleasures of the human body - its everlasting quest to support any of its articulating particles, no matter how big or small, should it fail.
She longed for the hot rays of the sun. For a blue sky. Enjoying the warmth of a beautiful day was not at all encouraged. Vestalitim kept its people - especially the children and those susceptible to daylight withdrawal symptoms - cooped up inside during the day. Giving them minimal exposure to the outside enjoyment. Day light curfew was heavily enforced but never policed. At times she found herself slipping outside if only for a few minutes to escape the constant clatter of the indoor analogue sprawl.
The sickness had slowed down her brainwaves to a distant hum. Had she not have been overcome with a feeling of dullirritation and sadness she could have sat there staring into the oblivion of the room for the rest of the day. She peered over at the obsolete security monitor. Nothing moved asides from the pixellized digits of the clock. It counted down the seconds of her life - over half an hour slow.
[What would you do with an extra half an hour. Waste life - love time]
Men rushed around the room, their tools clasped tightly in their hands. An assortment of analogue dials masking digital signals were strewn around the room. Holes had been cut in the floor to reveal a mass of cables and wires. The men busied themselves with wire cutters. Taking more time to observe and walk around the room muttering code to no one but themselves than actually doing any work. The busied themselves installing an elaborate cable and wire system for their new wireless network.
Tiager sat there trying her best to be unnoticed.
The trial rib "bones" inserted into her ached. They were slowly being consumed by the rest of her human self. Her muscles commenced a slow system reboot, turning rock hard around the anomaly of wires and digital cartilage that had been her new bones. The simple pleasures of the human body - its everlasting quest to support any of its articulating particles, no matter how big or small, should it fail.
She longed for the hot rays of the sun. For a blue sky. Enjoying the warmth of a beautiful day was not at all encouraged. Vestalitim kept its people - especially the children and those susceptible to daylight withdrawal symptoms - cooped up inside during the day. Giving them minimal exposure to the outside enjoyment. Day light curfew was heavily enforced but never policed. At times she found herself slipping outside if only for a few minutes to escape the constant clatter of the indoor analogue sprawl.
Happy Nice Days To You
HAPPY NICE DAYS TO YOU
Caught up in the rhythm of the bus she pressed her nose even closer to the glass/ intermittently gazing outside as a whir of foreign obstacles rushed past/ her mind fixated on the past/ too filled with memories to take in the outside world/ it seemed strange really/ the welcoming signs of an unfamiliar city would usually be more than enough to draw her in/ but the flashing neon and artfully scrawled symbols on the signs outside left her empty/ all the while she yearned for a solid/ grinding beat/ to be wrapped up in tingling melodies/ deep and dark in the bottom of some club with his hand clasped tightly in hers/
[have you ever felt the bass inside you/ like really deep down in your soul/ so entwined in your body that you can't tell if your dancing/ convulsing/ living/ dreaming/ being the music]
Caught up in the rhythm of the bus she pressed her nose even closer to the glass/ intermittently gazing outside as a whir of foreign obstacles rushed past/ her mind fixated on the past/ too filled with memories to take in the outside world/ it seemed strange really/ the welcoming signs of an unfamiliar city would usually be more than enough to draw her in/ but the flashing neon and artfully scrawled symbols on the signs outside left her empty/ all the while she yearned for a solid/ grinding beat/ to be wrapped up in tingling melodies/ deep and dark in the bottom of some club with his hand clasped tightly in hers/
[have you ever felt the bass inside you/ like really deep down in your soul/ so entwined in your body that you can't tell if your dancing/ convulsing/ living/ dreaming/ being the music]
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