Spacey Gracey

I remember how, when I was young, I often sat by the window, gazing out at the colours and wishing that when I grew up I could be one of those people who defined COOL. Don’t assume that I wanted to be a pop star or hip designer… I wanted to be the head of a corporation bent on monopoly that decided what its weak-minded consumers ate, watched, drank, wore and smoked. Or better yet, the head of a single organization bent on monopoly, represented by a bunch of apparently unassociated conglomerates that divide among themselves the rights to influence individual aspects of their weak-minded consumers’ lives.



Fine, I lied… this only occurred to me today while I was practicing my domination technique. When I was a kid I probably wanted to grow up into a tree.

It’s so utterly miserable that no matter how much you might want to be original, almost everything you are is not what you are. It needn’t be subliminal programming that countercultures and conspiracy theorists like to believe in. As far as I’ve seen, it’s all right out there in broad daylight, in every medium that exists. Everything is projected onto you in one way or another, maybe purposefully, sometimes ricocheting off the next person, but when one of those rays eventually sneaks one of its dirty little tendrils around you, you’re already the newest victim of urban culture.


Being a tree would be nice, though. Trees are cool.


“The frontline is everywhere, there be no shelter here.”


Rage Against The Machine – Wake Up
Joe Anderson and Salma Hayek – Happiness Is A Warm Gun