Revolutions: April 2007 Archives
Orange juice is actually yellow. Discuss.
Tipping ain't no city in China, denial is not just a river in Egypt, hedging does not always involve bushes, and projection can occur outside of a movie theater.
Starr Glazer jumps her Simple Seven off the road, a difficult skip at night, and then pedals up to the top of the levee. The path is smooth here, lit by a sky streaked with orange clouds, reflecting the myriad light of the chemical plants across the river. She looks to her left and takes in the view. From this distance, at night, the massive zig-zagging assemblages, dotted with silver and gold lights, look like cosmic tinker-toys, and like spiralling chromosomes as they glitter across the shifting black water.
She rounds the bend to the right, and glides toward a steaming pot of Green Dragon, the best white tea at The Beige Fez, West Baton Rouge's finest tiki-bar.
In re: the previous post:
Welcome to my comic science fiction novel. Whoa-ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!
I finished editing my Color Quotes last week, over LSU's spring break. Now I have days that, even with my classes, yawn with spare hours. What to do' I figure I'll just spill my debut novel out onto the internet and see what happens.
Is it not funny, my comic science fiction novel' Franz Kafka thought his novels were hilarious, and would laugh while reading selections aloud to his horrified friends. But I understand. Funny is that which makes you laugh. If you haven't laughed yet, then check back. Maybe you'll laugh later.
Revolutions. What a laugh.
The first psychedelic song, the birth of the genre, was the last song on the Beatles' album Revolver, Tomorrow Never Knows. Now, THAT was a revolution.
One chord. ONE chord! And yet the permutations of that chord, of that sound, seemed infinite. Loop the track and you might not notice the segue for days.
That was 1967, so now it's, what, 58 years later and nothing, NOTHING, has matched that one song. What happened' Where, and wither, went the revolution' It was all on the flip side of Revolver, the back of the black and white album cover with the band a chiaroscuro silhouette, as black as the vinyl. The fab four posing by a grand piano, serious artists now, in black silhouette. Ringo's hilarious and gear horizontally-striped sunglasses. All the possiblity in the world, right there in black and white.
The vinyl spiral runs counterclockwise, but the turntable spins clockwise. And the sound swells up from the black spinning disk. It's all black and morbid and final now, the Beatles all dead, all except Pete Best, a TV star now, but the first pyschedelic song is still alive, rising from the black depths, still calling: turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.
Downstream.