SOTD #697 – Public Likes Pills
OH HI THERE.
What have I been up to lately, you ask? Oh, nothing, really. No, I’m not hiding a knife behind my back. And no, I swear, I haven’t been cheating on you. Honest. In fact, I can assure you that I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone. No need to. Haven’t you read Ballard?
Listen to this, and you can feel your body sink into the vinyl seat in the back of the subway. (Maybe someone’s on top. I don’t know.) You can hear the Knife flirting with Nitzer Ebb. Me, I see curved flesh, disconnected curves. Legs, especially. In black and white.
Uncomfortable? Good. We’re in sticky territory here – this is the intersection of violence and sex, the warm leatherette at your back and the parking brake against your thigh. This is how to remove human partners from the erotic equation.
Obnoxious? Why, you’re welcome. Nothing on the radio (i.e the Top 40 station at the gym) really gets under my skin anymore – you hear these pulses, you hear men and women crooning in the ways that they ought to croon. That Mark Bronson does his happy Huey Lewis funk. But I don’t hate the guy. He or the rest of the sterile lot.
Public Likes Pills, though…well, they’ll either turn you on, or disgust you. Or both.
(Out the 25th, you slobbering scum, on Moleskine recs. And yr friendly neighborhood iTunes store.)