Tears for Fears - Year Of The Knife (Live)

Cocteau Twins - Violaine

RISKY TRAIN RIDE, the poor must exit

Everyone taking a turn.

That moment on talk shows when they show a local artist, from NY. Someone who's risen up in the scene, as significant and cool. The way that bubble bursts as soon as they start, real talent not there, just a flash in the pan. And the way they hang there grinning, like you'r not thinking about what they've had to do, to get there, what they did and what value it had, for this moment, to know that this moment is all there is, of ever getting paid. And it's slipping through their fingerless hands. Maybe see them take a step back, if they are any good and properly freak out about what is happening and how they've been handed their script their whole lives and now when it needs to make sense there's no pencil. You were hypnotized and like us all it's easier to pretend to be still asleep than to wake up and deal with the awkwardness. When you wake up, before you go to sleep, the little town people go to the big town to make a small town that then eats all the auditioners who applied to your ad. If you can make it here you can make it any where. I think said Sanatra, an evil thug. But I don't think of Wellington that way, couldn't give it a character that way using a local artist, why's that. I can't say that any of the artists or art I know locally is used as part of the national past time, used to shoot the breeze into thin loops of digestible tit bits. We all got smarter, better hid machinery makes for a fall guy, straw guy NY centre of the capitalist donut hole, everyone can eat nothing in the shape of a hole that keeps giving. A stack of donut holes scraping the sky, each box a room full of treats fantasies a hundred meters in the air. Don't you want your floating air bed, your cloud palace vertical rise downward expanse view scan that in a week turns to invasive light, shut it off. close the curtains. Too much sky. Too much sky. Turn it off. You've over dosed. Poisoned by light streams still powered by the dead light fingers of diseased gods. light is diseased, infectious with smear glimmers and visions, and fools. Everyone taking a turn.

- tw

save the humans bumper sticker. part of the Driving to the Appoloclyse Ready made series. - Tao Wells