DEAD LETTERZ / INVISIBLE INK: KWENTO
o c t o b e r 2000 — o c t o b e r 2004
T!LT
2002.01.15
1. At the Great Mall of America, I buy myself a sweatshirt that bears the image of a crying eagle and a waving flag. Sewn on the inside, near the fabrication history and instructions for washing, is a small, desperate note handwritten in a newly extinct language. When I return home, I know I have been visited by the authorities. Things are too perfectly in place. The television is still on--same channel, same volume. The remote control is too cool to the touch. In the driveway, I stick a flag decal on my truck and fill the gas tank with blood. I am feeling patriotic today. Meanwhile, the president chokes himself to death on violence and lies. The crowd cheers, goes wild. Rushes the field with sickles and knives. The children of the poor are conscripted, sent off to die; the fortunate sons wipe tears from their eyes.
2. The oxygen is laced with deadly microscopic shards of dollar bill. The poison works slowly; there is no known antidote; we are at an infinite loss.
3. Official 2: Don't struggle, you'll only make it harder on yourself. O1: Can't you see this is the will of the people. Hand over all your credit cards and interest rates or the bunny gets it. O2: Here, take these naked wires. One for each; it's a clear example of fair and balanced O1: This is what democracy looks like, pendejo. O2: Your kind make my stomach revolt. O1: Yes. The rich are nauseous from your stench. O2: Next time learn to keep your emaciated internal organs to yourself. O1: I don't think he's gonna talk again. O2: Perfecto mundo. O1: A huevo. O2: Here's a gift certificate. Go buy yourself a vowel. And something nice for the wife. O1: Yeah. Just shut the fuck up and let the fittest survive.
4. ... one thing bleeds to another ... ... factory doors shut ... prison cells open wide ... quantitative arrest scores on the rise ... helicopters circling our kids on their way to school ... corporate executives vying for attention span, peddling Ritalin on suburban streetcorners in broad daylight ... television winks, and laughs, and smiles ... The ghosts of Magonistas prowl the border at night, waiting patiently for a second chance.
5. "... this mode of existence cannot be sustained ..." --what are you teaching these kids today, anyway? "... we'd like you to just come with us and answer a few questions if you don't mind ..." "... blood and hatred in the air ... machine gun giggling somewhere through the night ... media cluster balms for the elite ... the poor under bridges in campfire light ... a hungry newborn baby cries ... cops beating a guy ... green nightvision sky ... look for me in their eyes ... " This is what your freedom looks like.
6. Lies. |
DEAD LETTERZ / INVISIBLE INK: KWENTO
o c t o b e r 2000 — o c t o b e r 2004