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a fixture of the winter arrived sometime this month. it was formerly only heard under nondescript tides, alongside shades of geometrically accurate corporate buildings. (the kind that smell like breakfast danishes and fluorescent light. as soon as you step into it, your brain rearranges itself in a sort of hierarchy based on the concept of human/fax machine dependency. it’s true that significance is directly proportional to the glossiness of an object.) where was i. oh yes, the smooshy wooden honesty of emotion. like the cosbys. i'm mad at the cosby family because they've TRICKED me! and danny tanner, i don’t how to respond because sustained synthesizer tones aren't prefiguring the near future. so enough with these sitcom misconceptions and on to wind my gears to their usual grey ticking motion picture soundtrack tempo: the sound of a restless bird, some sort of grotesque clarity seeking faith. the scent of a green woodland figure some thousand miles off. oh oh, and a tiny island planet that should be left by taking advantage of a flock of migrating geese. this is a big dumb DRAMA, after all, where everyone wallows in a vat of coagullated self-pity. it's time to get up, like mother says when she punches your ruffled head to wake you up in the morning. i should like to cue the exit music and then clambour up to the film-window and EAT this filmstrip. with chipotle dipping sauce.
by The JavaScript Source
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