Driving 95 and cruising down the road, I just killed a guy to loosen our load. It’s not that i wanted him to die, it’s more that I didn’t want him to be alive anymore. Anyway, we must drive on, the blue lights are chasing us and we’re only human after all..
I’m not guilty; i’m a witness, which is worse. Once they figure it out i’ll be sent onto some witness protection program, which means i’m still a wanted man, trapped in a new life in some boring apartment complex in Florida. i need a decoy.
The car we’re, i’m, driving is a rocket 455 Chevrolet with a big bore straight 6. Trouble on wheels basically, it’s not a question of if you’ll get attention, but what for? The odds however are in our favor; we have money for rope, and the last time we stopped for gas was yesterday. We turn onto a straight empty road in a deserted industrial park somewhere in south-west Detroit, slowly I put my foot down and let the engine breathe. As the air intake valves open up, the engine roars to life, but all I am hoping is that it doesn’t seize or explode in some sort of heat death.
Time is on our side, or so the song on the radio tells me, but i’m not so sure. It is sucking away at our possibility of freedom, a time vampire which won’t ever stop. The logical conclusion is that we will die, one way or another.
A t-intersection is coming up fast, this is it, possibly the only chance to lose those fuckers, I steer out to the other side of the road, so that I can take the corner wide. 30 yards to go I slam the brakes, blip the throttle as I gear down, and we go side-ways. Still revving the throttle as I hold the skid we drift around the corner, the revs of the engine bounce of the side of the buildings in the night, and it feels like I am in a dream.
Coming out of the skid, the car snaps back, as if onto rails, the tires once again finding their grip on the road. But there is a car coming towards me, it’s headlights are closing in fast, and I am still on the wrong side of the road. I yank the wheel hard left, purely instinctively, the sound of car horn rushes past and somehow we miss, but only just.
Still trying to figure out what the fuck just happened, I look into the rear-view, for a split second I see the blue flashing lights again, but then there is screech of tires, a loud smash and then fire. The cops have driven head on into the car I just missed, those twerps. The fireball slowly diminishes in the mirror, another long straight road invites me ahead, and I am free.
I am sitting on a beach on some Hawaiian island, rockabilly is playing softly in the background, sipping a cocktail served to me by a girl in a bikini. Maybe I am? When i’m stoned it’s like the world has a glint in it’s eye. and sometimes it winks at me! Anyway, it’s always a pleasure to have a beer in the evening, especially on these hot summer nights
The University of Texas is hosting a heap of interviews from the late 50’s TV show The Mike Wallace Interview. Philip Morris sponsored the show, which featured a chain-smoking host who interviewed prominent figures from the 1950’s (mainly American) cultural landscape. The archive includes interviews with Hollywood movie stars, military defectors, artists, KKK grand masters and prominent thinkers of the time.
My particular favourites include Aldous Huxley, Erich Fromm, Salvador Dali and oil tycoon Glen McCarthy. Just as interesting as the interviews themselves is the attitude shown towards the audience as consumers of thinly veiled advertorial content. This includes numerous asides, by the interviewer, regarding the subtleties and complexities of taste vs. smoothness in a cigarette. All opinions presented, are of course, the host’s own.
this is such a cool and simple way to visually represent music. I wonder if the colours represent frequency too, for all those with Synesthesia out there? would love to see some Neu or something like that put through this machine.