In the same way that certain highly skilled MCs spit the realness of a situation and call witness to a way of being over the dj’s beats, I spin platters of words to create fake universes that overlay the “real” one. Writing=collecting and assembling. I like to cruise the middle class thoroughfares with my remote control out and my antennas UP. I imagine that I’m an archeologist from the future and that all this is picturesque ruins. For the sake of what they will not be able to find, I examine those things too ephemeral to survive into a new age, like food and paper and conversations. I try to read what I can in faces and body language. I take note of fashion—the way the denizens of NOW comb their hair and tie their sneaker laces. I try to rely on the tools that everyone has to piece together a situation. Intuition, foresight, hindsight…(the clock on the wall says a quarter past midnight) I occasionally take breaks to get something to eat and take a walk, with my iPod shuffle (Grimm) turned up and my antenna resting at half-mast and a bit droopy, like sailors on shore leave…
Velvet Underground, "New Age"
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