7.06.2010
East Coast put to fire
Bad image in my head tonight in this dry weather of the East Coast put to fire, natural or somehow more apocalyptic because man made. The traffic jams for the escape path and whether ditching your car and jogging on the Turnpike (or 195 or 80 if escaping west/east etc) would be the safest choice. The shrugging told-you-this-place-sucked attitude with which the typical New Jersey resident would respond as the road filled with parked cars. I picture a fat guy who looks a little like me huffing it down the side of the road, family in tow. Maybe he's wearing flippers and an inner tube, you know, just to be ready for whatever comes next.
7.05.2010
wall of silence
Since there was Phil Spector there must surely have been his opposite, a man who did not layer a wall of sound but instead its opposite, the progenitor of a towering and insurmountable wall of silence, non-layer upon non-layer of the densest quiet imaginable. His production work didn't make him famous but neither did he maniacally shoot a woman in the face on a paranoid bender. Indeed,this hypothetical person probably would have actually made a decent partner or spouse, had he ever gotten to know anyone closely.
Objectors would point out that a wall of silence by definition requires solitude, and I would accept this argument with the mild objection that somewhere in the world there surely is a mime whose destiny it is to love the anti-Spector with all her or his heart, to understand him fully and within that silence to establish an implied overlap of frequency ranges far beyond the scope of human hearing, far beyond the scope of sound itself, a resonant wave field or subnet on which thought and spirit mix freely, a communion of understanding and implication ahead of and around normal speech.
What is the anti-Spector's modus operandi? Simply the removal of noisemaking devices from the grasping range of passersby, beyond the reach of toddlers, drunks, sports fans, hunters, referees, construction workers, experimental guitarists, oboeists, vice principals, cheerleaders, prognosticators and agitators, harpies, candidates for town council, religious proselytizers, stepfathers, argumentative potential divorcees, etc.
It was never your right to scream at her that way, it was never your god-damned right.
Objectors would point out that a wall of silence by definition requires solitude, and I would accept this argument with the mild objection that somewhere in the world there surely is a mime whose destiny it is to love the anti-Spector with all her or his heart, to understand him fully and within that silence to establish an implied overlap of frequency ranges far beyond the scope of human hearing, far beyond the scope of sound itself, a resonant wave field or subnet on which thought and spirit mix freely, a communion of understanding and implication ahead of and around normal speech.
What is the anti-Spector's modus operandi? Simply the removal of noisemaking devices from the grasping range of passersby, beyond the reach of toddlers, drunks, sports fans, hunters, referees, construction workers, experimental guitarists, oboeists, vice principals, cheerleaders, prognosticators and agitators, harpies, candidates for town council, religious proselytizers, stepfathers, argumentative potential divorcees, etc.
It was never your right to scream at her that way, it was never your god-damned right.
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