Tag: free drunk
I’m in public. I’ve got that pulsing thing in my right temple. I’m basically tithing 90% of my thoughts here. I roll in with this fishbowl feeling and head straight for the people who look least drunk. Someone tries to strike up a conversation but I’m being really standoffish. Everything feels translated into Sanskrit. I’m like retarded and operating remotely. I think about staring hard into a mirror someplace private but it’s like there is no bathroom only a line to the bathroom. Some people I know are floating around like a Greek chorus so I bail. Try to hail a cab but I can’t even deal. I’m walking south toward the bridge eating an energy bar splashing bottled water on my face. I feel the sky pressing down like a positively charged void. I feel so sick. I feel impossible. I feel like after-birth.
I. THE POET AS IMAGE ARTIST
“When Duran Duran arrived on the pop scene in 1980, they were scoffed at a good deal. A poor man’s Spandau Ballet, people said, in their clumsy new romantic gear; all breeches and frilly shirts and not much future. They looked…well, provincial. Yet four years later, not only are Duran Duran one of the hottest groups in the world, but they’ve cultivated an image of sophisticated, even languid, jet-setters. They appear to inhabit a world of glamorous places, designer clothes, champagne, travel and beautiful girls. Duran Duran are not much interested in being the boys next door. Every one of their singles has been a chart hit, they’ve released three best-selling LPs and excited hysterical devotion among hordes of young girls. They belong to an elite corps of young British acts (along with Eurythmics, Culture Club and the Thompson Twins) who have shaken up the American music scene with a new look, a new sound and the encouraging ability to shift vast quantities of records. In the last four years, Duran Duran have played before royalty, seen Is There Something I Should Know enter the charts at number one, spent a year in tax exile, and had their every affair or indiscretion splashed across the front pages. They’ve received few kind words from the music critics, but that doesn’t seem to matter; their popularity among young pop fans everywhere is rivaled only by that of Culture Club. And in the pin-up stakes, there’s no one who even comes close.” – Maria David, Duran Duran
“A lot of people didn’t like me. Most of them were poets. They called me names like proletarian, idealist, romantic, handsome. Fools I thought. Why would people sell themselves short and not just live the life of pure creative glamour. It was easy for me, to others it was a mirage. The real geniuses of history were the ones brave enough to be it. I couldn’t understand their criticisms to be anything but jealousy. I encouraged their cupidity and became even wilder and more attractive than ever. Around that time I released a book called Mirage, dedicated to my detractors. I won’t brag about its impact, but it was breathtaking.” – Jon Leon, Hit Wave
I don’t even pretend with the alarm going off I just gun it the fuck out of there. I’m weaving in and out of traffic in a tux with security in pursuit. The streets are wet with panic. I could eat shit any second. I don’t even really know how to handle a motorcycle I’m just doing it. All that matters right now is that I never stop. Not with this mannequin’s arms bent around my waist. There is like an entire generation in her face. Staring off forever at what has happened, at what’s to come. This is my responsibility. All the failures and dreams of an entire generation and I can’t find the interstate.
So I get a job serving drinks poolside at this resort. I’m wearing all white, it’s great. Then it’s like 14 hours of tomfoolery and fire codes. It’s so bad I book a ticket to Canada and start ending every sentence like a question. I have so much fear in me it’s like I need surgery to remove it. This is before AIDS. Everybody is high. They want to play doctor but I just want a real doctor. Spend the night naked facedown on a bear rug and have fucked up dreams like a documentary. Like I’m in a shelter and people are writing shit on the internet like they know me.
[text originally appeared in Sink Review]
Just heard some blogger say “pedagogy” into his phone. This place is like a webinar for cool dorks but I’m here as like a favor. I’m in the meatpacking district at this mixer thing. I’m so bored I start itemizing all the ways I’m bored for fun. Ask this guy about his new API like it’s going to solve the death problem. What this place needs is failure. I can’t think of anything more political. I’m feeling I need to end this end user experience and just start rubbing up on people like they do in Japan. Just go literally balls out like I’m taking the short bus to school.