And I remember so many things, that sepia-toned afternoon up the coast, the light a burnt brown and yellow, fire truck sirens wailing in the far distance. There must be a fire. Not unusual this time of year. The summers in Perth, Western Australia are fiercely hot.
The other worldly music of The Caretaker emitted from an unseen speaker whilst warm air whipped in through the open window. Did it all happen or is it happening now? I drift about the room as dust. I settled here and there on thoughts and wonder about the whys of things and how they will be thought of before and after the time of now.
The Caretaker
Originally inspired by the ballroom scene in The Shining Leyland Kirby’s music is like nothing you’ve ever heard. Early works are comprised of manipulated 1930s ballroom popular musics. Those familiar with Mark Fisher’s work on Capitalist Realism may be surprised to learn of his connection to The Caretaker who, in homage to Mr Fisher’s suicide released Take Care. It’s a desert out there …
Further works include this epic meditation on the descent into dementia. Be warned it’s a frightening journey. Do take care out there …
We’re really running with scissors. Two nuclear titans battle it out over a frozen land millions of wing flaps away. Half the world has been injected with a mysterious substance that was meant to cure a disease which probably never existed. It looks like the injection is now killing people in greater numbers than the imaginary disease ever did. But no one is allowed to talk about it. It’s like politics or religion - not suitable for polite company. If you are a journalist in a major news outlet and you mention it ‘they’ will hunt you down and drain the blood out through your eyeballs, so I’m told.
The environment isn’t doing so great either but again it’s off limits. I saw a functional woman in a pretty dress. Her hair was so perfect, her lips a wanting red. She had a new shiny red car and a perfectly functioning life. No drinking problem there. You could tell she worked out. She drove everywhere through fantasy vision tunnels of light. The vehicle left golden streaks of magical mist in its wake and her exactly manicured red finger nail activated the wonders of sound and vision inside the cabin. No depression here. Life was her play thing. She smiled at me and telepathically promised sex if I buy the car. What environment? My salivating sex mind said.
I saw it all on a TV screen made in Guangzhou province. One of the men who made the screen was named Yichen. I never met him nor had the lady with the red lips. Yichen’s mother died and for some reason he was sad. He didn’t go into work on Tuesday and instead hung himself with a TV screen cable. Coincidentally one of the TV’s packing straps is currently wrapped around a stingray in the Indian Ocean.
Nothing is remarkable. Everything is just kinda meh, okay … I guess. Have you noticed how there are no new ideas in movies and even in real life? Everything has been done. We just rearrange and repackage now in ever increasingly nonsensical fashion. In a desperate attempt for originality we subvert our lives and our art to produce skeuomorphic tropes and contrivances. It’s soda water with a splash of chocolate. Everybody likes chocolate! - right?
In the vast sprawling suburbs of wasteland Perth, the rooflines meet the skyline. Driving through these new “estates” because I mean who walks these days? They’ve even stopped building footpaths I’ve noticed. Driving around here is like being in Legoland. All houses are constructed from the same kit and many are made as cheaply as possible. Low quality abounds. Why put in a four star energy efficient appliance for $500 when a two star one is only $320. That’s a $180 saving. And that’s a few cuts of Wagyu beef - what environment? Said my housing developer salivating food brain.
But then again is the star rating system all it’s cracked up to be? I heard Samsung sent some boys round and Mr and Mrs Rating had to leave town in case they ended up like any number of those other corporate regulatory bodies that try to do their job.
I’m pretty sure everyone’s aspiration is to be a baby. A power hungry baby. You’re not allowed to hurt anyone’s feelings anymore. It’s making conflict resolution really difficult because no one practices the art. So we’ve decided it’s better just not to say anything, shut the whole thing down and retreat into fantasy land where everyone is equal and whatever you want to be real is. They police everything you say. Just ask Jordan Peterson. They want to take away his license to practice psychology. Not because he’s a bad psychologist but because they don’t like his politics. Everything is political now and must fall into a neat box of allowed or cancelled. Once upon a time people had different opinions (nowadays people is banned because it’s too species specific). Who would have thought a principle like freedom of speech would be so maligned and attacked? Once held as a virtue of democracy it now seems as though the Democrats (and others) deem it only free speech when it adheres to their parameters of acceptability.
I may not agree with what you say but I defend to the death your right to say it.
~ paraphrasing Voltaire
or
The Anti-Harris Effect: defending the rights of your opposition to ensure a fair and equal debate.
This is the cornerstone of democracy. For a democracy to operate effectively all citizens must be informed so as to make fair and balanced decisions. Your democracy means nothing without this principle.
Our democracy means nothing.
Not that I’m a fan of democracy. It’s essentially mob rule. 51% are happy 49% are not. That’s not going to go over well. Burn it all down … perhaps I’ll save that one for another post.
Please enjoy my music:
I can't tell if it's just from listening to clips of your songs, or if Australia's whole vibe is like the US circa. 1984.
Sorry for sending you guys our Cold War and cultural decay.
(I was a college freshman in 1984 and first saw the Psychedilc Furs live that year).
Yep, at this point I think we should just go back to the drawing board.