Tuesday, August 5, 2014

slipper

Well whoop-di-do ive been a quiet shopper haven't it. Flopper dock, duck in duck out just get yer vex straight poster child. So its truther truth you wanted and you don'ts get. Blimmen bugger it get ready woman! I'm supposed to be on stage. There's, well, theres people from work who want to see what you do outside of work there! My work life is now my creative life too, like it or not chuck! That work ethic is now your play ethic mate! Well, sorry but fuck em, as much as I luv em. And I concocted a real turd for em all. I got up on it. So - city of not much of not much, It seems me dont really pull it off any more.. In my petulant little mind its all over. Really. Culture as this small minded imp thinks it is simply does not exist. There is truly no reason to play music at all. Or in fact, do anything. Because this town is a vacuum. A distended homeless swathe of throwaway names and acts and names and names and bandnames and more bands and bands . A mass of filtered, heat-treated, half-baked, templatized, insuperably moneyed slime moulds competing for ever decreasing venue spaces and what - recognition. Fun times. A point to make. Someone to love. Artistic credibility. There is no point to any of it, nothing. The  Real Estate agents have won. The business lobby has won. Venues are gratuitous tax avoidance rackets precisely set up to only promote bands whos members operate like a small to medium sized business enterprise  . Mentally ill types like myself have no place here.  But, ill keep living here, as a faceless worker, because city life pays the bills. I resign, but i don't resign.

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