Modern Malaise

by Lily

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about

A seemingly perpetual overload of data, unwanted streams of foreign thought and anxiety. Endless screens and flashing lights signalling sharp bursts of paranoia. Buried in there somewhere is the hazy memory of those red lips and matching dress. Was it a waking moment or a warp in the unbending grid of light? Not long before the memory is burned away in a painless white flash of nothingness.

Here in this dishevelled yellowing room there is no way of writing this all properly, the screens will know, no room for personal thoughts here. Nothing now but off-the-grid sketches, the box full of discarded equipment, the Roland, the Yamaha...

Nothing else matters now, they will find this memory if it is stored in the sky, it has to be transferred to chrome. There has to be a memory of that moment. Even if it no longer makes sense to the original
thinker, a path back is imperative.

The phone rattles on its rest,­ is that her? Cracks in the ICE have let the Tokyo connection through ­ how long before it leads back to these miserable walls?

Only one thing for it. Patch it straight into the signal chain…

credits

released January 13, 2014

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