Fresh Air From The Age

Come One, Come All

"Come One, Come All"

Step right up to my musical erotica. Sing with my women, my men, cry with the old ladies seated in the balconies.Let my opera pulse and pulse and pulse. Allow me to pull on your strings, make you crack in half in sound.
Electroshock isn´t the right word but it´s the only word that comes to mind.I used to ask myself, ¨Anyone wanna waste some time?¨Now I don´t. Clear-headed and lucid, inspiration hit me hard and hit me fast. You´ll cry.Wear golden studs on your belts, jackets, and jeans. Go against, with, for and all the way.
WE GOT A WINNER!We got a winner, folks. She´ll step right up, a faceless announcer calling her name. She is great for 10 minutes and reflects for 30 years. The announcer does coke, fucks hookers, and wastes time. So much time.
Next time you sleep, think of a tunnel, in which you´ll run on the walls, the ceeling, at hundreds of miles an hour. Or, think of a field, in which you´ll be a cheetah, in which you´ll run so fast, the horizon approaches, and you get to see the end of the world.
The end of the world will be seen at an end of the world party sometime during your junior year in college.Your junior year in college, you´ll start to do heroin, you´ll fly to the hamptons with your yuppie friends, shoot up in the bathrooms of expensive restaurants. You´ll listen to the talking heads.
Have you seen my opera? Have you tasted my sounds? Have you cried them through your pores?Oh, you worthless fuck, you can´t. Too worried about carnal pleasures. You leader, you motivational speaker, you fuck, you motherfuck.I shouldn´t have shown you my opera, it was too good for you. My musical erotica will go to another town, fetch a new victim.
You just weren´t blind enough, motherfucker.

posted by Gary @ 10/30/2006 11:05:00 AM