Sonic novel, a revel, a hovel, a level ground of found advice, so add vice and ego and then go back to the beginning of time, time and time again, the direction is back and forth, or fifth or sixth sense, common sense, as common as muck but not quite as smelly, no, its not on telly but it will be or was it? Because we are all repeats of last weeks series, a serious series of secret codes and secretive societies, if you please, you cannot fathom it, read it yes, a fathom and a half to the bottom of the sea, a sea bed where lies a beating heart of bed time understanding,
This is the novel, an amalgamation of sensitivity and creation, a byzantine chronicle of convoluted text, mediated noise, modulated by administrative edits and filters of formulated prose, so it goes, an Electric Lucifiction; chasing a dream of making it big through technology, Haack the herald angels sing, for they will bring the latest thing, along to tempt us yet again, so we hitch a ride on the wavey gravey train,
Modernity goes off the rails once more, it always seems to fail, to lead us to our idealised comfort zone, so instead we moan and call it art, to satisfy some instinct dear to our heart, something lurking in the dark, like this scrawl that will never feature on the bigger pictured malarchy, masquerading as cultural hierarchy.
Obtain here, a slice of cake and compliment it with your own commentary, this sonic novel is like a squabble on the street, an outsider view, that in the end could include both me and you, for modernity has only one conclusion, exclusion for all, unless we call attention to all suspension, of hard won liberty..
