Revolution no. 9

You said unless I could get into common time I could not come with you to the revolution. I said I’ll move to the rhythm of the revolution, only. You said I’d fall over in the streets if I didn’t move with you, as we duck and weave through the predictable progressions and poke our heads up for those surprising refrains. But, I said, everyone is ducking and weaving, there’s no order there. They carry different colours, shout at different pitches, write their own obituaries for that moribund political system, yelling ‘ha!’. And in the end I didn’t come with you. Because I can’t help but relish chaos. Because I am a revolution tourist. Because I do performance studies, and maybe I’d write an essay about the theatrics of the coup, and that is not the kind of thinking we need at this crucial juncture, Bron.
But mainly because I’m just really into ambient noise right now.





notes:

1. that story is inspired by cas. "ambient noise!".


2. i'd also like to quickly remind everyone of that song sexual revolution by macy gray. it's amazingly great.

"I'm so funkin' beautiful
especially when I take my clothes off
I'm so funkin' beautiful
especially when I take my clothes off

sexual revolution

got to do them before I die
got to do them before I die"