I'M JUST AWESOME I AM!!!
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| Selfie, May 3 2014 |
It was cold and the sun shone and I felt like an actor...and I thought of myself before and I wanted to get back there...
Before what? Before my brain had been flooded with a trillion songs, fragments of which suddenly play, triggered by nothing. That would be pre song consciousness, very early, perhaps when I was...five? 'How much is that doggy in the window?' You see?
Before my brain got fried by all the images on the internet. I want to wipe the slate clean! I love the internet. How did we survive before it? What did we do? Stay in bed longer...watch more TV...what? Were we living before the internet? I used to read newspapers in one job when there was nothing to do. In another the work was too physical, too continuous to have time to fill. There were always more bricks coming along the conveyor belt and I had to stack them properly. I'd throw half onto a pile, despite having spent days training in my own room with a private conveyor belt. Hey, Pink Floyd, don't talk to me about just another bloody brick in the wall...
Bashing my head against a brick wall... is that what I've been doing all these years? It's not been a waste of time, surely. What else would I have done? Got a career? You know, one of those jobs that take up a lot of time and tire you out but earn good money so you can have a 'nice' house, car etc. Here's a nice house...
That's my idea of 'nice', anyway. More than nice...amazing. What kind of job would I have to do to live there? Brain surgeon? Architect? Pop star? I'd make the most saccharine, brainless, catchy Pop in the world to live in a place like that, I would. You might hate me but I wouldn't care. I'd stand in that top room of an evening, sipping expensive wine, thinking...what? Perhaps I'd think about all the money I had, all the fans, the flash vintage cars...and wonder why I still wasn't happy...why I cheated on my wife...how much longer I could carry on touring...and why those fans at the gate don't fuck off and leave me alone...
I haven't mention a courgette for a long time. I really need to because when I did people landed here looking for something to do with courgettes but finding John Cage smiling at them, along with a courgette, which isn't smiling as far as I know, but how can you tell? It's one of my greatest achievements, foisting a 20th century cultural icon (cult) onto people who only want a recipe including courgettes (I presume that's what they were after). It's quite possible to be a fan of both the courgette and John Cage, isn't it? Not that courgettes engender adoration, really. They're quite bland. Like most music. The music world's full of courgettes...not enough chilli peppers, tomatoes or spinach. Here are some people playing vegetables...
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