Zero Bldg.
Brian tapped on my door this morning and told me that Conyers was being evacuated because of a
chemical fire. I rolled over and on the floor beside my bed was my copy of
White Noise. Last night I bought a used copy of
28 Days Later. I hate it when stuff like this happens.
I called my parents. My dad seemed almost eerily unaffected, saying the cloud was headed in the opposite direction, that people in South Carolina were already smelling the chlorine.
"Alright, well, I'm about to head out to do some things."
I hope my family isn't being incredibly stupid. We live within spitting distance of BioLab.
I am reporting from the lowest bowels of the interweb... a campus PC lab.
Milledgeville is a ghost town. I'm only posting so that I don't disappear.
The Id Speaks Out
And finally! Aaron and I went record shopping. My finds were interesting, I walked out with a really good EP by Chi-town's The M's and Glenn Branca's first foray into orchestrated noise guitar symphony, Lesson No. 1. I'm listening to the M's now, as they revive some long dormant spirits of James Brown and Roky Ericson hiding just behind the shadows of all of us. The EP reaches its coda with a group of voices, male and female, making a joyful noise unto us all and that includes you too, God, you beautiful surly bastard that WE BREAK OUR BONES FOR LOVE! WE'RE DOING WHAT WE CAN, PLEASE TRY AND UNDERSTAND! PLEASE TRY AND UNDERSTAND! And don't we! Yes is all we can answer until the end of time. This is where we came in and where we will exit, singing. Bells ring, horns blare, some guitar somewhere drips with sweat and the drummer discusses with the tambourine just how to shake these very walls around us to the ground. We don't need 'em! They sure as hell don't need us, never did, and in Detroit, hell, they might as well all fall tonight. Out of the rubble would come thousands of shocked and angry faces attached to arms and legs that have long lost their purpose. As long as The M's were set up under the streetlights on the corner of East Milwaukee and John R, where the confused rabble would huddle like children, I don't think the city would take it too hard. Sufjan has the idea! Detroit! Lift up your weary head! Rejoice! Rebuild! Reconsider!
Remember that everyone is loved.
Especially You.
I will be home tomorrow night, where I will kiss the ground of the south, look north and sigh.
Be ready.
-Mhyque
