A Light Through Yellowed Glass, a Patch of Warmth, and Your Cosmic Deathray Disco Dive


There will come a day when blue is not a color. Clothes will not be worn, and you’ll never hear the sound of the underman clipping his toenails in the office next door.

There will be a day when no one looks when someone screams, ‘Look at me’ out of the open window before they jump. They’ll pass 17,425 advertisements on the way down, and ruin a clever cross-corporation marketing solution chalked on the sidewalk and thought up by a freckled twenty-four year old advertising exec at four o’clock in the morning after scraping himself up off the martini lounge bathroom’s tile floor where he’s dreamed of raping the American mind with the American Dream. As blood stains the poorly rendered portrait of the reality television star spokesperson, the ad exec will straddle Manifest Destiny bareback and set an invisible Yezhov on fire with his lit Parliament while directing people to his uptown condo.

There will be a day when the dimmer switch hipster gets his comb caught in his beard and the whiplash jerk of his neck will shake loose his honorable intentions mired these long years in the cobwebbed and darkened corners of his mind. He will see the errors of his vinyl addiction, his insistence that stick-figure art is neo-futuristic, and his vehement denial that Radiohead tanked after Hail to the Thief.

There will come a moment when someone will slap the grin off the women who stab each other with phantom etiquette and ride the perpetual gravy train heist of an ego-trip they call being “in”. Someone will have the guts to say to them that their stupidity and vapid obliviousness to the strife of humanity is the fat of the land – and while they may be thin as a compressed mantis leg, they are, they ARE the fat cells that make humanity obese, useless, ugly, and fucked.

There will be a night when a timid child goes to sleep comforted by the fact that their education has not included a combination lock thrown down the hallway at their skull. They will wake seeing that life is not a foot race, a hammer throw, a beauty contest, an election, or gauntlet of guilt. Their greatest potential will be reached by walking forward one step at a time, unhindered, uncontrolled, undirected, and understood – and they will do this alone because they know that they in themselves are a universe apart from the individual.

There will be a day when knowledge is a result of actively seeking an answer, not listening to the man who sells postcard wisdom. You will say you know Paris, because you’ve been there, not because someone sent you a postcard from there. You will know life because you sought it out. You will know truth because you recognize the fallacy.

There will be an end to everything that is wrong.

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