Monday, July 20, 2009

There is a house in New Orleans,

The ruin of many a poor boy.
Does anyone get that reference?

You understand?
It's me.
Me and all the others, trying to get away with yesterdays concessions.
They just upped the penalty. The revenue raised will go towards tasers for transits.

Ever heard a real time, real life announcement at a metropolitan train station in Perth?
I have.
They can turn on the speakers that are placed around the station and next to the ticket machine and tell you off for things, such as smoking, pissing and vandalism.
Big fucking woopdi-lah-fucking-dah I can hear you say, scared of getting yelled at by Big Brother?

But did you ever think about how they could just turn the microphone on?
The one that you use to talk to Transperth to let them know the ticket machine is playing up?

Letting it idle incessantly, capturing idle chit chat clandestinely in conjunction with the closed circuit collage montage.
The walls have ears, eyes and arms, and they reach out for clowns in costumes.

Be afraid when you hear the thwap of the Honda.

He knows your full name and your address, if your on Centrelink, if you haven't been paying your bills, if you have a court appearance, and he drives past your house everyday.

Fuck worrying about the Illuminati, climate change, racial tension and the recession, when Postman Pat's lurking the Project with a government blessing.

How's the serenity now?

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