To bed with the tactile subconscious. Fracture took a right turn off the cliff side & fell three doors down. I pour Nancey another shot of gin & queue up six random access memories, like a game of Russian roulette. The stakes, as always, are nothing. Circuit boards are black holes for poets, dreams the philosopher, whispers the banker. Real estate scars the suburbs as the bull mounts a housewife &
Ever since my wife left, I’ve been playing the synthesizer with increasing frequency. Like literature, ambient synthesizer music is a creative activity that I indulge in quietly at home, out of the way of any interference between my ego and my own pleasure. I bought my first synth for my daughter. A Yamaha DX-7, which is often associated with pop music made during the musical zeitgeist that preceded the digital revolution.
i’m sick of people standing up for friends who keep getting talked over. i’m annoyed by those who meekly accept their waiter fucked up an order because they’re too sympathetic to say anything. it’s not that i’m an asshole to service workers. i do those things too. but i don’t get in front of a camera to record dialogues about it. i don’t vlog about my 700 self-diagnosed dissociative identities.