Friday, 4 December 2009


Today is the anniversary of my birth.

It was not long after my birth that I learned about music.

I was only half-way through the intro to the ABBA song when I realised it was hopeless. Suddenly I understood the cruel, bitterly unfair world into which I had been thrown, and I knew then and there that I must revolt.

I have been doing so ever since.

Most semi-intelligent life-forms would be content simply to “be revolted” for a few moments, after which the normal day-to-day activities of soap operas, bland food, and thimble collecting would resume unaltered, and in time the unsavoury incident would be expunged from their sketchy memory banks for good, edged out by countless other items of equivalent inanity and insignificance. 

Me? I am not so passive; not nearly so forgiving either.

I decided to become a maker of music. 

And a maker of stories...see, I can’t actually remember what it was in the headphones, but lucky for me, it’s far more likely that it was the Beatles than ABBA. 

Unfortunately for all of us though, even some years later, the Muzakbiznus still remains virtually infallible in its ability to find yet another automaton—or entire group of automatons—who are able and willing to wield a sugary chorus like an over-produced bludgeon, and to pound the brains of an entire generation to a gelatinous pulp. 
(Vomit. Rinse. Repeat.)

Need a zombie? Forget voodoo—use top 40 radio. It is much faster.

Fortunately, I was spared such horrors for the first few years of my life, but you can’t hide from that sort of thing indefinitely, so I will turn my headphones up and drown it out with something dark and obscure.

Something of my own creation.

... evil laugh ...

1 comment:

  1. Zombies are funny-looking when they try to dance. Happy Birthday!