before our travels were resigned to reviving old passions

the question is: where are you going? i don’t know. how am i supposed to see anything. i can’t see anything. i feel like im surrounded by fragments of things that sound like some other life. i picked it up and turned it over in my hand and thought…then put it back down again. fear sets in, and those old memories come back. eventually you start to fear the memory.

“this is a marketing holocaust”

a maybe obvious thing occurred to me the other day, that the real harm of advertising is not that it teaches us that we should change, but that it is in our power to change. that things which are out of our control have an established solution. it is has already been fixed.

“transport, motorways and tramlines”

where are you going? your destination can be found on the map. a fun game to play is to determine the most efficient sequence of transfers with the shortest time spent in layover. it isn’t so much a game of skill or resourcefulness as it is one which affirms your ability to take a not so subtly telegraphed hint. compliance is not interaction. the joke is that with the power to see through walls we occupy ourselves with constructing some more aesthetically or intellectually compelling arrangement (of walls).

“you can’t think in this place. you can’t make new memories.”

“how are you to imagine anything if the images are always provided for you?”

“one day / i am gonna grow wings / a chemical reaction / hysterical and useless”

even our biology is mechanical. even in our wildest dreams we confused a frantic buzzing with flying. “floor collapsing, falling / bouncing back.”

“it is so easy to be callous. it takes courage and character to care.”

“don’t get sentimental / it always / ends up drivel”

“one day you’ll know where you are”

where am i going? the fervent promise of “one day…” forks: in one direction the crushed in the ground dreams, the confused collision with a window mistaking it for air, circular and doomed by design to repeat itself like automated transit; in the other, a voice of wisdom insisting that the destination is the present, the are. there is no retroactive. if you had some capacity for acceptance maybe you wouldnt be so fucking bummed out all the time. they wouldnt keep locking themselves in there if you removed the lock.

Radiohead – Let Down

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