abadonment is not fun ...

I don't know why anyone would want to feel like the world has been cut off from them, due to a lack of money, time or energy. I feel so lowriding today, feeling my energy seep at a level that would make the Andromeda Strain appear like World War III today. Like a chemical containing no sense of purpose, I exist. Unlike water, I cannot be a universal corrode, like I once was. I have to absorb so much pop cultural flotsam and jetsam sludge its way down the drainpipe of Americana. It's like a radioactive neon green slick that was produced by OverConsumer Conglomerate. Orson Welles is rising from the grave, winking at the Julio Gallo CEOs, warning us of a War Of The Corporations, much more grave and excessively lethal, whereas his Mercury Theater recording of HG Welles [whom he met in a radio interview] is a minor threat, a whif of sage and sawdust to say the least. Beware all of the Tarantinoesque disposability of our lives. We are truly at peril. And alone we stand, facing the great unknown on a lonely island of concrete no bigger than the size of a bathroom tile.