the state system, another technical revelation

A vision in a nano-second.

Nanoo, nanoo. Mork calling Ork. Come in Orson and pull up a sledge. High octane images.

Desperate groups of academics, their tone unchanged since Aristotle, buy last-minute bouquets for Mothers Day. Extendible credit for random living. The blades of scissors cutting through plastic. A stake through the heart. Shopaholics and jungle moths trash a London basement, reciting political theories from too many books. A magical identity on minimum wage. Filofaxes left on Lear jets. Smoked glass cubicles are impenetrable. Gabba, gabba, hey.

Four-wheel drive heaven courtesy of air-Tahiti. A safety patrol par excellence. Flight-call for the shuttle. Prepare yourself for the combined perimeters of a Fender Stratocaster and escorted safari tours. Drive round the Cape of Good Hope in a Honda. Flexible city breaks. Upmarket travellers as often as the law will alow. Digital communication, straight and tall, scream blue murder. Angry and intense, impulsive and other fabulous prizes to be won. Walking in Memphis. The studio firmament. Biographies of emotional dwarfs, undermining a game that no longer exists.

The bottom line is fading physical attraction. Kick-start the economy. Rawhide shrewdly sums up, cheesecaked delinquent traditions, forever associated with feminine undertones. The ten commandments for an active class struggle and entertainment value. Four decades earlier waiting for Godot and a radical governor with disrespect for prep-schools and Greenwich Village beatniks. Subversive poses. Chauffeur-driven limousines. A umbrella organisation with no imagination.

Thoughts upon thoughts.

Image upon image.

Vision upon vision, frame by frame.

A convenient focus one hundred frames per second and a million miles per hour. Power plays and popcorn. Rejuvenation of dwindling profits and planetary influence.

Nanoo, Nanoo! Gemini and Capricorn with an option to buy.

Bye-bye.

Sold down the river. Sold to the highest bidder or the lowest common denominator. Dominance and submission with an intermission. A mission impossible.

More lucid now, aware of a real voice speaking in rich BBC tones translating everything into Greek.

Here are the news.

Here am the news.

I am the news.

I am the walrus.

Keep on walking and don't look back.

A pillar of stone. A pillow of foam. A radio alarm, two minutes fast, catching the end of A Prayer for Today. Must re-set the clock. More trouble coming every day.

Death and destruction followed by the weather forecast.

Sunbeams dance on the duvet.

Still breathing, still alive.

Now it's up and at 'em. Or maybe just five more minutes.

Give the day a head start before seizing it with both hands.

Live everyday like it's your last, for one day you'll be right.

END