NormBeggar's Belief (2005)
Not only do I wish to vacate these cramped premises but perhaps this planet and onto a new millennia and a new type of civilization. Three new forms of representation must be found, fostered and picked at like so much chicken and chips.
When I did get out and about in metropolis public transport was my preferred mode and trains particularly tickled my imagination. Screams of consciousness echoed through the heads of the drug-induced stupored train passengers.” They can hear my thoughts…hear my thoughts...thoughts... oughts,” shouted ones inner voice.” Keep it to yourself “ came over the loud speaker in the mind of one, to which another gave nods of disapproval which resounded and bounced like a ball on a trampoline resulting in a Mexican wave of a nervous twitches across the face of one. “Lock it up, keep it to yourself, keep it down, control.” Was the communal mantra taken by one in the campfire setting of the mind “ We are now approaching...” ”Hell” interrupted the thoughts drowning the inner senses with terror. Of course the suited man saw things differently: he’d say to himself “Annual income, such and such, art, literature and music burn in hell” this is how it was read by the affected types. A blink here a fidget there a magisterial cross of the legs and a turn of the broadsheet sent the message loud and clear: this train: this train; this train is my train. In every corner of the earth, wherever a social group is, no matter how small, over what period of time, the eternal and unrelenting external pattern prevails. Take one such group out and examine by itself and hold it up against another and it’ll be a perfect fit through the correct lens, of course. A social group can stretch millennia or decades, across the earth or in a small puddle of humanity. All of this on a billboard as the outside rushed past the train window. Something far greater was at work than this miserable speck of human kind.
When I did get out and about in metropolis public transport was my preferred mode and trains particularly tickled my imagination. Screams of consciousness echoed through the heads of the drug-induced stupored train passengers.” They can hear my thoughts…hear my thoughts...thoughts... oughts,” shouted ones inner voice.” Keep it to yourself “ came over the loud speaker in the mind of one, to which another gave nods of disapproval which resounded and bounced like a ball on a trampoline resulting in a Mexican wave of a nervous twitches across the face of one. “Lock it up, keep it to yourself, keep it down, control.” Was the communal mantra taken by one in the campfire setting of the mind “ We are now approaching...” ”Hell” interrupted the thoughts drowning the inner senses with terror. Of course the suited man saw things differently: he’d say to himself “Annual income, such and such, art, literature and music burn in hell” this is how it was read by the affected types. A blink here a fidget there a magisterial cross of the legs and a turn of the broadsheet sent the message loud and clear: this train: this train; this train is my train. In every corner of the earth, wherever a social group is, no matter how small, over what period of time, the eternal and unrelenting external pattern prevails. Take one such group out and examine by itself and hold it up against another and it’ll be a perfect fit through the correct lens, of course. A social group can stretch millennia or decades, across the earth or in a small puddle of humanity. All of this on a billboard as the outside rushed past the train window. Something far greater was at work than this miserable speck of human kind.
