Posted on April 27, 2019
“DISCO SUCKS” T-SHIRT . . . you’ve seen it before, I’m sure. Do you notice the utter INHUMANITY IMPLODED in that disgrace of a statement? Four-scores-and-seven-eightballs ago, Disco was the forefront of a NEW HERMETIC TRADITION ROOTED IN HEDONISM and VITALITY THROUGH SEXUAL YOGA . . . the gyrating HIPS of the young Disco-goer symbolize A UNITED CHAKRA which the VIOLIN/STRINGED-INSTRUMENTS conjure in SEXUAL RITUALISTIC INSTANT REPLAY PLAYBACK the METAPHYSIC ENGINEERINGS OF SEX . . . when you move yr JIVE THING in a TURKEY-ESQUE MANNER . . . you are SOOTHING YR PELVIC CHAKRA . . . I have never seen a movement like DISCO that brought back some of the CONCEPTUAL TUPPERWARE PARTY-ESQUE COMMUNAL NOD-TO-SEX, ACCEPTING AND FLOURISHING IN SEXUAL PROGRAMS AT ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT. Disco was also a COMMUNAL MANUFACTURING CULTURAL VESSEL, a CULTURAL SUBMARINE, you will, IT BROUGHT PEOPLE together who would GET DOWN & MAKE LOVE . . . this is PRE-RAVE, PRE-PLUR, where the INDIVIDUAL lost their PIZAZZ and became another KINK IN THE RUBBER SUIT . . . DISCO lead SELF-INTERESTED, LOVE-DRIVEN BOOGIE-DOWN TIME to those who may have lost their way in REGARDS TO THEMSELVES. Next time someone says DISCO SUCKS tell them they are simply a SHEEP to be HERDED ACCORDINGLY until they get the SHEPHERD STAFF of DISCO planted in their HAND.
DISCO IS NOT DEAD BECAUSE SEXUAL ENERGY
IS NOT DEAD NOR WILL IT EVER DIE.
Posted on April 2, 2019
They couldn’t quite put their finger on what exactly was different as they hopped on, but something seemed off about the elevator the young couple had ridden up to their 10th floor highrise apartment a zillion times before. Their abstract hunch would quickly give way to concrete tangibility, accompanied by horror. Operating at an uncomfortably unsafe speed, bouncing and bumping its way around, the elevator car was behaving more like a captive ball in a tilted pinball machine than the banal transportation device it was designed to be. The elevator continued to accelerate, failing to stop at the requested floor, before finally smashing into the roof of the building and eventually settling at the 11th and 12th floor penthouse suites. Why the 11th and 12th floor suites were both on the same floor is anybody’s guess, but architects have their quirks and can be a tad eccentric when it comes to their precious designs.
It took a moment for his mind to process that they had arrived at the wrong floor. He managed to catch himself from reflexively stepping out as he noticed all of the brightly colored and exotic furniture which clearly did not belong to him. They both stood there for a moment, quietly concealing their shellshock as they pondered their next move.
“Why don’t we just take the elevator all the way up to the roof?” she suggested. “The car is parked up there, and we can just drive it down. I’ve done it a million times before..”
His mind briefly considered the option. Being deathly acrophobic, he pictured himself out on the roof of the building, exposed and nervously shaking, frozen in place with the dreaded, fear of heights “ball tingle” sensation, knowing that one slip or misstep would send him over the edge and plunging toward the asphalt, with the sun subsequently beaming down on his mangled carcass. Almost simultaneously he visualized the two of them in the car (a tan stationwagon) attempting to carefully maneuver the vehicle down the spiraling, precarious ledges around the building, hoping to safely reach the bottom….
“Yeah, I’m not doing that,” he replied, completely dismissing the whole idea.
They remained in the elevator, seemingly in limbo and with the situation unresolved.
What could it mean? She speculated that perhaps this ordeal represented his hesitancy to take the more difficult path, a tendency to resist choosing the more painful solution even though there was reason to believe it was the correct one, maybe even the only one. He was simply too stubborn to accept it.
This explanation led him to recall an episode of the Twilight Zone, Death Ship, which concerned the fate of a captain of a spacecraft and his crew. In the episode, the men repeatedly land on a planet where they encounter a crashed ship, one which looks exactly like their own. They also discover their lifeless bodies in the wreckage. Struggling to understand what has happened, the two lieutenants experience unexplained “hallucinations” where they are reunited with family members and loved ones who have died. However, each time they are awakened from these dreams by the Captain, who insists they are suffering delusions. After some time, the lieutenants conclude that their ship did in fact crash, and that they are dead. They express their willingness to let go and move on to the afterlife. The headstrong captain refuses to accept this assessment and continues to posit other possible explanations as to how they have ended up in this predicament. Through the captain’s sheer will to live, he keeps all three of the men in a loop, where they continuously land and take off again from the planet, attempting to figure out a way to prevent their fate…
And so the young couple would remain in the malfunctioning elevator, seemingly in limbo and with the situation unresolved for an indeterminate time.
Posted on March 27, 2019
The video appears to have been filmed at the Louvre Museum. It features a lot of Renaissance paintings in the background, such as the Mona Lisa. I don’t recognize many of the other paintings by name, but I did notice the well-known Hellenistic sculpture called “Winged Victory of Samothrace,” which makes frequent appearances throughout the video. I’m talking of course, (I don’t blame you if you’re lucky enough to have no idea) about the video for the song APESHIT, from “The Carters” (the name for Beyonce and Jay-Z’s musical twosome.)
It can be difficult to interpret all the meanings and symbolism, because there is a lot going on. However, I can detect political, racial and historical themes intertwining with one another. By placing themselves in the museum among works by the great masters, on some level they’re making a statement as if to say that they (as artists and as blacks) have finally made it and earned their place among the greats. In that sense, “The Carters” almost seems reminiscent of The Jeffersons tv show, which featured a successful black family living in Manhattan’s upper east side. The theme song spoke of “movin on up,” and how they’ve finally “got a piece of the pie” (in spite of all the historical obstacles.) “The Carters” strikes me as a contemporary musical or artistic version of The Jeffersons, minus any the show’s affably authentic charm. Beyonce and Jay-Z see themselves as belonging in this museum, without really appreciating what the works in it represent.
What I like about the video is the cinematography. It’s beautifully shot, and there is a lot of well choreographed dancing. I think what I find abhorrent about the video though is the way Beyonce and Jay-Z seem to equate “making it” or artistic status with riches and superficial materialism (conveyed through the lyrics) as opposed to higher abstract thought, spirituality, humility, craft and the pursuit of understanding something greater than oneself. There’s a lot more to the old masters than simply being rich and famous (many were probably not even particularly wealthy in their lifetimes.) Regardless of money and album sales, there is also something inherently low class and hubristic about self-appointing yourself to this level of prestige. Is autotuned pop music with vapd lyrics really at the same level of Michelangelo or The Head of an Oba? Not in my opinion (which is entirely subjective.) Just because you have enough money to rent out the museum to film a music video doesn’t mean your work belongs there. It reminds me of the wealthy businessmen that paid Andy Warhol to do their portraits. Admittedly, this is a somewhat ethnocentric view on my part, since if I had been in the shoes of those historically denied opportunities, I might certainly value and elevate different attributes. If my view is ethnocentric though, then I would argue that so is theirs.
Posted on January 18, 2019
Just when I’ve convinced myself
there’s no way all that’s going to flush down without
this toilet getting backed up and overflowing…
the plumbing gods accept the challenge without hesitation,
without much fanfare but
with a boisterous roar and
I’m proven wrong.
I’m always impressed when
a public toilet flushes with
a force rivaling the
opening of a spaceship’s airlock
If only Sears had applied the
same attentive zeal and resources
they summoned to secure these Herculean
(and with equal intensity)
toward improving their actual business model,
the company might not have gone out of business.
Instead they’ve managed to flush themselves,
with plenty of help.
Brandon Adamson is a writer who lives in Phoenix, Arizona and is the author of several books of poetry.