"Behind every system, behind every rule stands a corpse and laughs. You can't tell me who I should sleep with. I don't work for wages. My life is a revolution... My life is a beautiful life... What you call freedom, I call waste... I will continue to love my own voice. If everyone becomes me, everything will collapse."

Bruno K. Ă–ijer

Monday, September 13, 2010

Vibrating Shades

The city was stolen. The castle was bombed. The sings of changes where followed by the fire works. Heavy head. Cliffs. Mountains. Oxygen supply. Black tape. Rubber. Black trash bags. Fingers on the wooden tables. Prints. Maximum volume. Ink stains. View of marching pigs. Angles. A sucker for sugar. Yes. Uppers. Downers. That's just the way it is. All fences are crashed.





Remembering the track "start the riot" . Halls of art school. Booze in teachers room. Darts. Loved the way shared arrows felt. Tasted. Who is cultural. What is clean. 9 mm. White appears. Leather shine. You'd better come down. Have a taste of raspberry jam. Tea is good for you. Coffee makes you think too much.

This is a meat packing district in a cute bow. Bow of streets and heels. Bad perfume. Skinny legs. Red dresses. 30 pounds with out extras. Make a carrier. Smell of acetone. You can drink almost everything. Take in. Fist. Skin. Post-it is taking over the wall space. I know. Red marks on red surface. In a red light with the red drape in a red box.



It is on the wall for a month. Finish. Begin. Preferences. Missing words in the gravity of electronic disfunction. Lamps. Monochrome. Taste. Salt. Pepper. Sugar. Fresh herbs. Love basil. Stay in. Go out. Bullshit. Circus. Leave it. The thought is the language. Every line is written. Articles. Reviews. Playlists. Occupation. Fill in the form. Fridays hit. 27 of September. Countdown. Departments. Bruises. Unit Nr. They say loose canon. I say knuckleduster. Eternal argument. This thing turns in to a echo. Discretions. Light of the morning. The sound of moving suitcases on the street at 3.33 am. Cleaning crew is here to rescue the street watchers. Clinging to the same song. Jarboe has her unique way to talk in vibrating shades. Sequences. Sentences. War of information. Naivety. Determent to see. Birds are back. Monitoring the language. Tamed conversations. Tired. Pinkish sky. UK is waking up. A perfect atmosphere for a train ride. To feel how speed of the moving rails take you to an unknown destination. Stupid boys play riddles in the backyard. Stupid girls try to figure out the riddles for them. The burning cigarette.




Had a plan. Inspired by old noir movies. A pair for leather gloves. Sound proof walls. 9 pm. When the fireworks and orchestras will play the final tune of this years festival. The picture was getting clearer. Finely the voice had opened it's vortex. Lets jump. No metal detectors. No unnecessary drama. A perfect picture. She was crucified. And so the story keeps on rolling. Need a fix. Tomorrow is a big day. Court will be breathing the shadows thou the spot at the bottom. No judge. Awaiting. Bring her to the stand. Read. Pop two more. GO! Instincts. The actor. The actress. The stage. Crimson.



Just hang in there
Revers




Good night and god bless,
Sonia Dietrich

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