Ephemera sometimes drifts into a slightly dusky spaces. I have been wandering these streets ever since I could squeeze out of my basement bedroom window after my mom was asleep. Running to listen to bands now long gone in clubs that are now no more than the subject of ironic hipster t-shirts. Gentrification has firmly settled into the area yet somehow the grittiness and the darkness prevails over oil based coats of graffiti-proof paint. The light of a patchouli scented candle has been replaced by the glow of an Apple laptop. Emo supplants punk as the outcry of smooth pink flesh in the dispair of questing for a firm place to stand and something to believe in- or be disappointed with. I can still hear Debbie Harry singing as I walk along the streets...
Ooh baby, I hear how you spend night-time:
Wrapped like candy in a pure blue neon glow.
Fade away and radiate.
Fade away and radiate.
Ooh baby, watchful lines vibrate
soft in brainwave time.
Silver pictures move so slow.
Golden tubes faintly glow.
Electric faces seem to merge.
Hidden voices mock your words.
Fade away and radiate.
Fade away and radiate.
Beams become my dream.
My dream is on the screen.
The beams become my dream.
My dream is on the screen.
:) X
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