"The Boy Bands Have Won, and All the Copyists and the Tribute Bands and the TV Talent Show Producers Have Won, If We Allow Our Culture to Be Shaped by Mimicry, Whether from Lack of Ideas or From Exaggerated Respect. You Should Never Try to Freeze Culture. What You Can Do Is Recycle That Culture. Take Your Older Brother's Hand-Me-Down Jacket and Re-Style It, Re-Fashion It to the Point Where It Becomes Your Own. But Don't Just Regurgitate Creative History, or Hold Art and Music and Literature as Fixed, Untouchable and Kept Under Glass. The People Who Try to 'Guard' Any Particular Form of Music Are, Like the Copyists and Manufactured Bands, Doing It the Worst Disservice, Because the Only Thing That You Can Do to Music That Will Damage It Is Not Change It, Not Make It Your Own. Because Then It Dies, Then It's Over, Then It's Done, and the Boy Bands Have Won."
Grainy cartooned face that grieved as the tape pulled from the VCR, he's got no one to scare that pants off of him. Deserted and pushed through the mangy black teethed crowd as it's violent blood pussing worm holes pushing underneath him and pulling him under the that cold mud. That Old man did wonder about that Ferris wheel, that it's burning witches and feral foot print "Oh answer me" spotted lepers in the main grounds, chilled casket sing alone with deceitful head turns with eye lashes plucked see no one marching, no one hoarding to the elements. All hail simpleton, over glasses of water, rings of water at the edge of the smudged hand print that dirt snorted rhythm inside the vapor trail that bridged him in to that barricaded town. That town was flooded and over 'fun'ded with merry go rounds and plastic candy, that man face weathered and mudslide over the projection lens. Let it go with it's iceberg floating mentality that bird that hit the wind, that man that stood and didn't fall as the pillars collapsed. No fifthly hands retired they live long fruitful lives. The zest of butterfat filled humankind, harpsichord stuck in your throat, bungee binge how the hammer hit the nail in the head, it bled and bled fluid words that he couldn't comprehend.
- Discovering the Senses
- Kill yr TV! (from the series - Kick Some Arse!)
- Amos Jugg
- Kill yr TV!
- Gone with Gone
- family and the half bricks 074
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- I completed you once too often, I have been told. ...
- . don't come knocking .
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- . the tocsin finale: allegro non troppo .
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- . a couple of thoughts .
- ▼ February (53)
- ► 2009 (1247)