Vampires and Nickelback--the mainstream's enacting a Darwinian dialectic, I'd say. Survival of the fattest, to a point. The old institutional approach to books and music burying itself alive (gasping for those final asthmatic breaths) in its cannibalistic frenzy to feed consumers. Methinks the trend has overshot flavour-of-the-month; how about panic-attack-of-the-week?
How else to explain biosolids grown in biosolids passed off as art? Maybe all it will take is a little volcanic action--a cloud full of toxic grit, particles lethal enough to down a jet and collapse the world's airline industry. Some seismic, cataclysmic shake-down to change things up.
Writers, musicians of the world unite. Think if we all withheld what we make from the greedy who would brand everything into one coddled-pap piddling stream of beige. Think if we threw our c(l)ogs into the machinery and seized the mode of production; filled every corner, every cranny on earth with our stories, poems and songs.
What a performance that would be. What lava-blasting pyrotechnics, blanketing the bland with ash.
- A writer, mother, teacher, friend, I love books, blizzards and beaches, music from Hildegard von Bingen to the Beatles to Bonnie Raitt to The Brood; I love medieval churches, red wine, creme caramel, and roasted beets, and walking the woods and coastlines of home.