you hurl the core of apple out the window as we speed across the desert lands. Piute country. a wall of mountains either side. a federal prison. a reservation. we break west through an ancient pine cone forest. we stop so you can pee. 7000 feet high. spell our names in the snow.
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Paris hotel and casino. a replica of the Eiffel Tower steps one giant welded leg into a generous lounge. statue of a man mopping the street outside a piano bar and crêperie. you grab the handle to help him. i take your photo. the action here never ends. brave faces under the lights. the work is never done.
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Vegas. 5am. i take the elevator 20 floors down to the lobby. slot machines. whoever on the last dime. an old man smoking a cigar. a young woman with a pained expression. a dog under her arm. pulling for 7 bars on 5 lines. the dog licks foam off the lid of her coffee.
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on a train leaving Las Vegas
i thought to my (future) self
with all the deception in the world
who needs magic?
Culture! On the rise. On the thoroughfare of decline. How much a paradox, culture. Always. But why? This became the question for the intelligentsia and the intelligence community to unravel, or turn and grease and turn through slippery hands and minds and collective politically-based idea factories in all its holographic glory so to cover all possible aspects and leave no stone unturned between heaven and all hell;
touchscreens by iphone
mapped by google
imax projected
rubix cube on wheels
virtual pac-man (on miss pac-man)
codified
doublemint, latex-sprayed, triple helix, malleable, homeland security shookdown, std- proofed, double your fun, confessional-sanctioned, pope-approved, double your pleasure, avatarian recreational. Yes. Tasty technological treats borrowed from the highest ranking military and intelligence officers’ quarters somewhere in death valley, near a secret desalination plant airlifted by drones from Dubai in the middle of the night many moons ago, just so many unknown miles from the alien docking pads to earth, drowned out by the lights and sounds of the postmodern resurrected Las Vegas metropolis. And vehemently disowned by the Administration. Yes. Tasty technological treats, tax-appropriated out the yingyang circa 2001, handled by the freshest natural born citizens with the cleanest slate records and very possibly robots or droids or blowfish poisoned, shellacqued zombies-4-freedom
USA – genotyped
anthropologically- profiled
fingerprinted and man-handled
cornea-scanned
debugged and rooted, microchip implanted, samsung manufactured, cloud-protected, supercomputer hardcopied…with an added feature of complete and unlimited playback * of all lawfully yet non-transparently gathered fresh NSA data, mined exclusively from you and that dude who lives next door to you** until cancelled at anytime.*** Guaranteed current and fashionable (though maybe emaciated or soundbytten or heroin chic) and filtered of all administration-branded nonsense (including the trade journal or democracy-when? kind). They performed such wizardry from their desks and satin stitched loveseats on backyard balconies jutting out of their ivy hideouts. Or else, for those with the proper clearance who were constantly mobile, through remote desktop controls permeating clouds with passwords and repititious ID scans in the nondescript (and unsuspecting) offices of community college mudhuts across the country, or, in cases where time got crunched, free wifi local coffeeshop hotspots created and protected easily for short periods of time across the grid. Always cloaked, though purportedly transparent. Wherever.
Unfortunately at times the two were inseparable. The circus and the intelligence wrapped up trying to find meaning in it. Increasingly ineffectual… all this was made quite a bit more restless and anxiety-prone inside the collective heads of the pushing 350 million population, where the diminishing rate of return
of dopamine
of serotonin
of norepinephrine
by the heavily taxed 99% of neurotransmitters getting fucked with****, under auspices of heavy pharmaceutical rotation, toward an approaching parallel yet still tangential moving target of drain and leaking of energies on the vertical axis of collective coping mechanism function. Which translates to something really potentially ominous on the horizon, which you and me and your mom (and the Beverley Hillbillies, too) within our greater cultural context, could not , cannot, and may never be able to afford. So Sorry! Please move aside and make room. Next?!
* for 30 days, on American taxpayer credit, to be charged $9.99 thereafter a month for continued use, if necessary or so desired
** ‘you ‘ denotes any US citizen anywhere, on or off American soil. See the Patriot Act for further reading
***in a flex plan catered to current political unrest akin to arab spring but potentially closer to home
**** just like us
by Katya Blue
k in denim by k
, 07/13 katyamills.com
K IS SILENT 