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Thursday, March 15, 2018

Hi, How Aren't YoU?

Hi, How Aren’t you?

Across the landscape of poorly erected cranes across newly
aesthetically modern over priced condos and confusing office
buildings, lies a grumbling of lost potential and miscellaneous
semi-creative endeavors. Droves of ambitious people flock towards this
new epicenter of opportunity and pursuits of metropolitan pleasure and
moderately hip sense of cosmopolitan complacency. The heart of the
city has had so many replaced vessels and ventricles that the original
bloody organ from which it was built upon seems very perverted and
discombobulated. A lucid sense of sensuality is stifled by the copious
amounts of franchised stores and new trend mongering eateries and bars
to attract young hormonally driven singles and “singlettes” and
technocratic intellectuals.

What was once left over from the original Live Music Capital of the
World has been carefully commodified to a new amalgamation of rising
property taxes, blue state propagandized values, trendy health
directives, contrived subculture pockets and magnets for debaucherous
young folk who plan on making as many “networking” connections as
humanly possible. Go ahead. Swipe left across the infinite amount of
shows and events that are plastered across the over-priced coffee
shops and social media feeds on those tiny distracting rectangular
time suck devices. So many options. What more could you ask for?

( Careful what you ask for? )

You get the tension as the new developments from outside the city try
to mold it into a new landscape of gratification, seduction and
unrestrained tastes of post modernist design. The coffee shops are
full of distracted college students and pretentious townies. What a
travesty to be inconvenienced by your incessant caffeine addiction. No
need to fret, go down the block to the new trailer where you can get
that low carb, highly frothy, caffeinated energy boost you have been
urgently desiring. There lies a plethora of options riffing on the
same bitter theme of local, fair trade and guaranteed to be poured by
a dispassionate millennial who is only doing the whole barista thing
until their graphic design and/or music career takes off. Onward and
upward through the fog of the facade that everything is happening all
at once as your “Fear Of Missing Out” compensatory mechanism kicks in
that swerves you into a new mental state of confusion, doubt and
post-espresso crash dysphoria.

What better way to reward the end of a long work day then to frequent
one of many happy hours scattered across the city like dirty socks in
a teenagers room. Variations on Texas Flavored Beer Water seem to be a
trendy commodity to the young, restless and broke that want to take
the edge off, but don’t want to worry about not being able to their
quirky Banh Mi’ sandwiches, veggie loaded queso, truffle butter fries,
specialty ice cream and vegan inspired pho-meat dishes. A stench of
poorly kept hygiene radiates across the humid bars and drinking holes
inviting all types of people just casually living a slacker like
lifestyle while simultaneously and most likely sarcastically
criticizing how expensive and crappy ATX is becoming. But hey, at
least there are a few treasures left with moderately decent deals on
mass produced texas centric beer waters.

A special type of homogenization lays its groundwork in this new
capitalist driven center of creative potential, while at the same time
allowing for any sense of “weirdness” from the past to slip through
the cracks like spilled bloody mary on a rotting patio of a trendy and
overpriced brunch place on what some people might refer to as the
“east side”. Spooky to say the least. Fashionable cloths adorn the
shoulders and waists of the young and old “well to do” city dwellers
as their sense of societal importance and liberal superiority
resonates and interlocks with their hormonally driven consumerism
thwarted and calmed by the fact that the clothes came either from a
vintage store or a free trade locally owned business that focuses on
limiting the collective carbon footprint while providing micro loans
to random African villages. Touche’. Ride a bike and go to the show
while grabbing a beer and shot in between the perky traffic afterglow.

The Revolting Corpse of Nostalgia seems like it is trying to be
erected, while simultaneously being all dressed and dolled up to look
like a new slightly off putting type of pleasure doll. This newly
re-imagined “Brooklyn of the South” seems to be trying so hard to keep
the original hippie like, free willed, weird and creative backbone it
once had before the Technocratic Fat Cats arrived. The thing is,
things will never be the same.( An “Ain’t That the Truth” truth ) Like
one of my favorite platitudes, “ It is what it is!” Deeper down the
hole we dig ourselves while trying to keep some type of conceptual
integrity and continuity intact that will not collapse into or form
into a revolting metroplex of scattered economic based territories,
claustrophobic serpent like roads, homogenized buildings, and portals
of complacency and convenience that would please any traveling
American. An introduction to becoming Any City USA!  with a hard
franchised suburban cookie cutter aesthetic on the surface. Small
shopping malls and centers that will delight every whim in a
convenient epicenter of complacency and compliance. A plague of
opportunists can sometimes only see dollar signs when seeing and
confusing potential with the mindless and endless expansion of trendy
facades that are good at selling “things”.

You can get a fancy hat. You can get an artisan candle. You can get a
rustic decoration to match your wood grain and metal coffee table.

“Can one see the forest through the trees, when the smaller and older
trees have been forgotten, trimmed and broke to make room for the new
budding giants?”

Composted Integrity.

The packing of humans into close quartered and stacked boxes into a
place that was never meant to be so “big”, has lead to strip out the
cheaper existence that involved people mainly wanting to mind their
own businesses while appreciating the inherent uniqueness of this
Island in the Sun in Texas. New, clean cut young’ns and
semi-established “rugged” professionals see the brightly painted
minimalist concrete condos and lofts with ugly faces and think of how
awesome it will be to be within walking distance to that cocktail
lounge and the donation based yoga studios. What an age to live in
where you can have everything at your fingertips and get spoon fed
from Apps that are made to think your life can be easier while driving
up your cost of living with each swipe, drift and poke. Bouncing from
one trend to another. The attention spans of squirrels seem to be way
longer when seeing how Meerkat like these new city dwellers seem to
interact with the sense data all around them. ( When they lift their
heads from their tiny screens, that is. )

Like frogs hopping from lily pads, these trend jumpers love to pounce
upon the newest crazes and trends. Anything to fill that void.
Anything to escape the dreaded feeling of missing out! FOMO.

The ATX haircut seems to be forming into a nice and tight and
(overpriced) from it’s original messy hair don’t care hair spike dirty
sense of character. At least you can have a beer while you wait. Like
forming a Rodin sculpture into a Brancussi, the edges of the city seem
to get more and more formed into a substance with more market and
potent sexual value. Dress it up. Make it look appealing and
attractive. Maybe throw some young, attractive and fit (diverse)
groups of people to show how accepting the city can be to YOU and your
DOLLARS. Think Artistic Billboards! This rapid growth, much like a
metaphysical act of temporal dysplasia, seems to have no definitive
form in sight. The amorphous popularity and population expands and
reforms new idealistic ventures on where to take it. Of course, it
depends on who is in power to take control of this exponential
metastasis and who is willing to cut and resell the fish, if you will.

“ The hippie free spirit vibe of the city is getting domesticated and
put in to debt by the draw of the smelly green prosperousness of the
future. Build up! They say. Build thy tall phallic buildings that
worship economic success and exploitation of resources. They can only
build so high to the sky until they realize that no one wants to go in
debt for beautiful views or be so inconvenienced as to take their
smarmy little pomeranians and corgis down 31 flights in an escalator
that plays Top 40 gunk.”

With each new renovation of old and slightly off kilter buildings, a
new wave of infantilized well groomed post-intellectuals flock to flip
and form a new sense of identity whilst blending recycled wood and
materials with new modernly minimal inspired aesthetics comparable to
what you would see in any new progressively populated gentrified inner
city ecosystem. One would not dare to keep with the original
structural integrity and history of the houses before the settling of
hipster egalitarians. Like a hand with a bunch of sore thumbs, the
palm seems to look way more greasy and wrinkly in comparison with such
fresh and modern architecture strait from a kitschy named firm.

“The Ol’ Flip Flop Flock N’ Walk!”

If one were to take a moist towelette to the greasy rimmed portal of
this new crowded pretension that we call this Texas city, they would
find a residue built upon rustic nostalgia and the pursuit for a
health conscious high energy no strings attached utopian future. (
What a great package! Sell that LOVE! We Love You So Much!! ) The
influx and overflow of small niche gyms penetrate the poorly managed
pot hole ridden streets within the heart and amorphous edges of the
city. Of course none of these establishments exist solely on their
own. An entire ecosystem emerges. An integral and primal symbiotic
relationship where in pre or post “workout” activity can immediately
be satiated and gratified with an overpriced cold pressed juice, vegan
muffin or an espresso strong enough to drive a squirrel to open up a
tiny trailer that prides itself on selling the most local of acorns
and nuts. Get your workout on, get your hair cut and pop in for a
wheatgrass shot paired with a nutrient dense smoothie.

The abundantly diverse and divergent musical ecosystem radiates
through the city and is greatly and appropriately within the lines of
the acceptable noise ordinances. Give glory to the newly powerful and
the State that provide such commendable and elegant restrictions for
the continuing progressive landscape of fortune, fame and fabulously
modern familiarity. Although the spirit of the musical vibe seems to
have been squandered and transmuted, there still appears to be music
or the potential for music around every corner. The whole spectrum of
music and musicians stretches itself across many plains and creates
various pockets of micro scenes and genre gatherings. One need not go
far to go from one polar opposite style of music to the next. From
blues, to metal, to math rock, the ever changing interchanging of
bands, projects and egos creates a robust energy that livens up the
expensive drinks, curmudgeon bartenders, poorly kept bathrooms( with
the occasionally entertaining gravity ) and the seldom outburst of
dancing energy that one might see at show where crossed arms and loud
talking is the norm.

The insulin like spikes of trends and recycled sounds that occur in
the scene that it makes it hard to pinpoint the emergence or relative
significance of a vital and sustainable scene. It is as if everyone is
trying to feed off everyone, but also get ahead like post-apocalyptic
sound junkies waiting to capitalize on the next sexy sound soup or
(salad). The ups and downs of the musical landscape has led some acts
to have their moment in the sun and then vanish into obscurity or use
their mediocre status to form new experimentally derivative bands that
can make just enough money to support their beer water, cult film and
taco habits. Peaks and valleys sprinkled with recycled mediocrity and
contemptuous complacency.

The exploratory art scene wanders around and latches itself to the
most eye catching, naive, pretentious, post modern aesthetic. Copies
of copies. Budding degenerate crowds flock towards new explorations in
material, form and concept. All in fun and games. Some will just
wander to take advantage of the free piss beers and bitter red wines
that were donated from a local patron in order to help pay for the new
befuddled property taxes. Some do indeed like the smell of their own
damp pits. An odor of effervescent modernism radiates across small DIY
galleries and well established High Brow(esque) boxes that seem to
migrate towards the repetitive imagery of crudely drawn cows, quirky
foliage, Austincentric happenings and retro referenced shapes and

Catchy slogans and cutely arranged graffiti compositions are scattered
throughout the city with a sense of contrivance and lackadaisical
pretension. What perfect performative spaces to take trendy #hashtag
worthy pictures and share them with the your specified and highly
curtailed appropriated echo chambered social media feeds. This pin
point focus on the accessible aesthetic that does not go out of its
way to challenge the viewer seems to be the meat and potatoes of the
public art realm in ATown. Although all these descriptions may seem
cynical, there is a certain type of unification that emerges from
adhering to a loosely emboldened and urbanely modern contextual

“ You can walk around the city constantly feeling like something or
someone is trying to get you to buy something you didn’t even think
that you knew you wanted. How bizarrely clever and dangerous.”

This new brow beaten modern aesthetic seems to permeate its way
through the truly visibly gigantic architecture to the upcycled
reclaimed wood side tables at the newest and finest fusion restaurants
where most of the cocktails contain some type of bitters or a variant
of ginger beer. They all want to be different, but perfectly in
harmony with each other to a new reformed and almost cynically sterile
type of look. Trendy colors and angular shapes float through a space
and beauty up brutalist(esque) gray boxes, banks and bars. Don’t
worry, a type of environmentally conscious biophillic resonance is
present in all these centrally planned and ready-to-go structures.
Clean edges and awkward asymmetrical placements. One could look across
the other Big Cities and see the derivative similarities of all the
tall skyscrapers and minimalist erections of efficiency and
exploitation. It all looks as if it was just meant to be, but holds an
essence similar to an awkward dance between teenagers at a parent
supervised soirée. The skyline seems about as seductive as a block of
cheddar cheese with a garnish of parsley and a dollop of Jello.

Well, what more is to come from this amorphous beast of modernity and
capitalistic sway? The constant economic growth and rise in population
has created a new tentacled titan that seems to be consuming the free
like spirit of what the capital city use to be. It seems as if people
“want” to care about what is happening, but complacency, frustrations
with traffic, and the rising cost of city living has lead them to
surrender any real sense of resistance. I mean who would want to stand
in the way of all this “progress”, if that is what you indeed want to
call it. Like all booms, busts and bursts, there will inevitably a
deeply crescent valley of ambiguity and chaos. The chaos may be more
domesticated that one would think on this matter. The ubiquitous
homogenization of technological integration and passivity, will have
people taking to their feeds and streams complaining of the most
minute of troubles. The mere fact of “waiting for something” will seem
like such a burden that the humid air of the city will be amplified
and choky. This encroaching crow of convenience and compliance will
slowly make a nest of discomfort, confusion and the urge to seek out
more obscure and extemporaneous pleasure. Too close for comfort or too
far from a unified community and culture?


Thursday, February 22, 2018

Monday, February 19, 2018

The sexual profundities of Robot disfigurement

The sexual profundities of Robot Disfigurement

A cement floor is discarded with electronic parts resembling varied appendages most likely associated with Models 2109 and 3192. Wires slashed and metal metacarpals and phalanges scatter the landscape while the occasional fly will land on an LED button. These were most likely functional bots that could efficiently execute tasks and build things that us humans do not have the fleshy software for.

Some of the parts seemed gleaming gooey in nature as if Vaseline was used to rub the joints so that they would move with ease. Some still had the patchy pseudo silicon flesh attached to the appendages. Fake mouths, heels, legs and elbows lined the dirty floor while the humidity sweltered with great prose and purpose.

These planned obsolescence models were once serviceable to humans of different varieties. They got used up, discarded and thrown aside to make use for the next batch of serviceable droids. The first few models that were developed had many errors that including random short circuiting as well as perforated disfigurement brought about by thoracic thrusting and aggressive grabbing.

Much to the chagrin of the prosperous creators, the outlandish provocation that ensued from the unleashing of artificial orifices for personal and private use, lead to new age of degeneracy and unrequited sexual deviancy. Like a savory and insatiable combination of salt, butter and sugar, the first release of pulsating humanoid like machines aimed to hit at every pleasure center and subconscious cravings to all who wanted it. The supply was having a hard time keeping up with the demand. People didn’t know how to responsibly interact or even reasonably know how to contend with such a new pleasure device that could conjure up new Debaucheries ideas and awaken dormant imaginations.

Men particularly took a psychological toll on their own well being by consuming and then engaging with these new pleasure automatons. Many started to check out of relationships and withdraw within the confines of their own neglected messy rooms and luxurious sanctuaries. The conveniences and instant access to these new sexual beings allowed for the constant release of unbridled passions and devious tendencies to act out perturbed and often aggressive tendencies. There was no need for the obligatory and altruistically reciprocal mechanisms that us humans operate under on a regular social basis. All was laid out to explore with no inherent consequences in clear sight.

The perverse worm of sexuality had wriggled its way across the fabric of daily modern living. Modernity is certainly built on measurement and this new beast had started to writher the measurement mechanism that was so prevalent in perpetuating the moistly desired modern world. From modern to a perverted version of a fantastical sensuality.

A pulsating irritation glowed brightly and symbolic sense of desire had been constantly agitated as the pleasure/ pain matrix paradigm was made even more polarized and destructive. Towers of passion were starting crumble as the ubiquitous access to sensual desire and gratification permeated the social consciousness. Like building up to heaven, the foundations of society became more and more unstable and the hellish consequences from trying to achieve exhausted states of bliss were pretty clear in the rear view mirror. As above and so below the belt, the phallic exuberance of animalistic procreation drives came to take over any sense of a free will among men and women alike.

The shadows of broken and slothful men were coming out of the woodwork and slowly eating the wood of ones self as if it was an infantry of hungry termites. Technological Infantilization. Like rats going for the next hit of cocaine or sugar for that matter. Like pornography, men’s serotonin receptors and neural pathways were slowly eroding from the constant action of achieving all types of glorified and gooey orgasms. Jobs suffered. Responsibilities dwindled and the overarching purpose or obligations that drove the men in the past were replaced with this new summoned dragon of chaotic ecstasy.

What better way to get a base of sex craved males, then to continually improve upon these new artificial sexual beings with new and improved upgrades and enhanced humanistic flesh like orifices. Hell was around the corner and piling a new mountain of creamy encrusted post coitus rags.

Masculinity was slowly crumbling like a day old muffin and modern males were being morphed into slaves of their own sick and twisted desires. The transformation of these men started to take an abusive economic toll. The richer men that could immediately afford each new and fledgling upgrade, were more apt to devote all their funds and time to the pursuit to fill that hollow void within themselves. Crackheads seemed to be more lucid and productive then these new technocratic opportunistic deviants and degenerates.

To degenerate and to generate into a new form. Muscle turned to pudgy subcutaneous dough that reeked of body odor and ecstatic fluid release. The blurred line between silicon like mock flesh and actual skin texture had become much more blurry and mysterious. A mysticism arose across all willing to openly come to terms with what had been awakened from the insides of these new sensually satiated men. They however were more susceptible to falling for new marketing tactics and social manipulations when dangled the carrot of energy release. The serpent became bigger within the identities of these new obedient and vulnerable males.

This transmogrification and devolution of these men lead to a great economic distress. The new dark awakening of the shadowy libido came to bring about suffering that was hard to imagine before hand. Great ecstatic peaks were accompanied by painfully lulling valleys filled with despair, regret and the constant cycle of depleting serotonin and dopamine. A classic High then Crash then High then Harder Crash scenario. The low cadences of depression lead to a increase of pharmaceutical anti-depressants. It was hard to match the supply with the demand and the cost of the drugs started to sky rocket almost over night.

Newer and newer models were coming out into the marketplace like sugar ridden high glycemic hot cakes. At an exponential rate, men and some women for that matter were exhausting each new technologically advanced humanoid sexual being. Upgrades were almost made at a dime with angry reviews littering the internet stores. The pressure of the market seemed to get heavier and heavier like a water soaked socks filled with rocks. Competing corporations were at each other’s throats with a sharp and agitated weasel thing. The opening of this new market of fleshy gratification objects, had opened up a new door of consumerist driven inequality and ill equipped manufacturing practices. Even the men that had unfortunately traded their jobs and livelihoods for the new obtusely hedonistic pursuit of orgasm and pleasure, were lining up to the factories that brought their pithy demise in the first place. They had to find a means to support their pain and pleasure ridden sense of meaningful existence.

Petulant kids in a prosperous playground of degraded potential. Pining for guidance and pleading for a new self serving and pleasing existence.

It soon became common that bursts of violent rage and deviant criminal behavior were a norm. The skills of socialization had fallen to the wayside. These new addicted males cowered and froze when approaching members of the opposite sex and men of great contention and competency. The isolation from the outside world and depletion of various vitamins had lead to pale like creatures with slouched backs, baggy eyes and a crude sense of how to display themselves in public. Was there any responsibility to be had for this vile change in stabile and competent men?

Soon the inevitability of the breaking of the bots lead to more devious and creative workarounds and modifications for pleasure. A fully bodied model no longed needed to service to its full intention. A limb or a particular orifice would do and be enough for the release and gratification of a sweaty participant. A grand disfigurement leading to a new way to get one’s jolly’s off in a jiff. The new manipulated slightly used models were bought and sold and traded. A brand new underground market of pleasure had arisen from the shadowy depths of post-coital despair. Limbs lambasted and fleshly parts lined themselves across the feeds of social media and poorly put together websites mainly aimed at selling a dry used up orifice as if it was new supple sensual center for satisfaction. As the market provides a new semi-affordable means of achieving ecstatic states and moods, the fabric of society had slowly started to restore itself, Men were releasing the bottom they had hit and the end of their rather lengthy binge of release. The lack of energy and tireless chaffing forced many to look within and crawl towards the relationships they once had. Like a baby taking his first steps, there were plenty of falls and stumbles before some could even start to think about reintegrating into the general population.

Large marketable retreats for recovery came into being as if it was some type of emergency effort to rid the earth of a disease and quarantine all that had been affected. The loose tentacles that had wrapped around people’s desires were slowly un-suctioned their cups from the power life giving genital drives. Was the the revolution of technological sexual debauchery coming to a halt? A reintegration was set to blossom within the fabric of this post-ejaculate soaked cloth of society. The ground had been laid for new seeds to arise from the gooey substance of disaster and  exhausted shame. Women began to see more attention. A compassion arising for the need for companionship with comforting femininity and the wellspring of domesticated socialization. A type of order was being restored that would mend the tension of the sexes and catapult a refreshed sense of relationships in an age of convenience and instant repudiation.

The melding of masculine and feminine forces were slowly seeping together to a new technocratic economy. The demand for sex bots had dwindled and many companies started to sell their businesses or look into new and more portable devices for easy consumption. It became hard to resell the parts of the different models and many were buying the used and discarded membranes and limbs in order to repair or build new experimental devices. This underground bartering and trade led to a new subculture of transforming the pieces of pieces into new pieces. Fake silicon limbs and orifices were used to create wacky oscillators and synths that would tickle the new post-apocalyptic technologically inclined audiophiles. Some of the discarded sex bot parts got shuttled off into dumps and e-waste landfills. It was a sad sight to see the half faced figurines all torn up, mangled and disregarded only to allow birds and reptiles to take homes in various crusty orifices and wiry lacerations.

A new scavenger type of class had some into being by the post sex-bot era. The occasional vagrant would frequent different alley ways to experience momentary flesh like pleasure for a small fee of cash, trade or the willingness to offer some dirty deed in return. The trickle down of instant gratification had offered and unseen opportunity and a safer alternative to possibly contracting a sexual disease or a small cuts from broken bits of wire and bent metal. It was a tragedy and comedy all wrapped into a heartwarming tale of accessible backdoor pleasure of the most hedonistic and subjective value of interest.

One could have seen this weighted scenario as a type of perverted progress. A dip into the abyss that led to a light to shine through upon the inherent goodness and reciprocal altruism of human nature. Many men and women were not as fortunate however. Many hard lessons and financial drownings were created from such a dip into the pleasure pain matrix that consumes everyone that lives in such a conspicuously consumption based economy. Packing to delight the eye and pull one into making such impulsive decisions that echo out to create and perpetuate the consuming behavior. Little did they see that such silicon based technological sensual delight could offer so much pain and misery in return. From that suffering and pseudo post-coital blues, arose a new path of the unknown that still had deep roots with the past and traditional values that brought them to consume and distort their own perceptions in the first place. The conditioning helped condition the mediocre conditions that lead to the new extreme concoction of conditions that would eventually decode and degrade the origins and roots of the original conditioning. The snake had been tamed and drained, but for how long?


Saturday, February 17, 2018

Tuesday, February 13, 2018