Some Kinda Love


January 22nd

Trump calls out to James Comey, from across the room.
“Oh, and there’s Jim. He’s become more famous than me.”
Comey, stalks across the room. Humble, reserved, perhaps nervous. They shake hands, and Trump leans in for an embrace.

Just five days later, Trump – according to James Comey’s written congressional testimony, from June 8th – will demand Comey’s loyalty.

Three days after this, acting attorney general, Sally Yates, is fired.

On Valentine’s Day, following a Washington Post report the day before. Sean Spicer, announces they have fired Michael Flynn.

Trump, will go on to claim, President Obama, wiretapped him. James Comey, will shortly after be fired, and our current landslide of absolute psychotic fuckery, will begin to take full speed.

Trumpland, and a hung parliament in the UK.

The reality of today is beyond belief. A sick misanthropic creative vision, perhaps manifested by all of us. Brought upon us, in the wake of our past mistakes. For the way in which, the twentieth century prevailed. The American Century, giving life to our current hell.

Devastated, constantly. Every one of us. Filled with fear, anger, and disillusionment. It doesn’t matter if you hail from the right, or the left; unorganised, pessimistic, and ever frightened we all stand.

A small percentage of me believes this is it. We’re screwed. This cannot be undone. There is no hope for humanity. From this point onwards, we are doomed. Let it be known, the end of the twentieth century, and the beginning of the twenty-first, was the arc of our demise. It shall be a short while, before we perish on our homeland, to be forgotten for the rest of time.

Given this situation, I think it only wise, to clear-out my bank accounts, buy as much LSD as I can afford, and hitchhike my way to the highlands of Scotland. Surviving solely on avocados, bourbon, and acid. Absolutely relishing in my new economic disposition, free of a future compromised of a mortgage; enabling me to go berserk with my avocado, and psychotropic purchases.

Speaking of LSD… It is one week on, from the UK Election.

Last night, I found myself in Kentish Town, for a double Australian bill at the O2 Forum.

Pond, and Methyl Ethyl. Two, of the most prominent names to come out of the Perth, psych-rock scene. Both acts gracefully following in the footsteps of the dominant superpower creative from the scene, the city of Perth, and Australian music: Kevin Parker. Merging their once tastefully alternative avant-garde sounds, into easily digestible indie-psych-pop.

It was an evening that surpassed many of my recent live music experiences. I am unsure, what created the blissful atmosphere. Perhaps, it was the Australian music, coupled with the heavily Australian audience, together in a hot-sweaty-room dancing the night away.

Regardless, of what was the driving force for the evenings captivating energy; the show was nothing short of exhilarating, and wonderful. Nick Allbrook, declared multiple times throughout the set, how grateful, and downright stoked, he, and the rest of Pond were with the sheer volume of enthusiastic punters, at the London show.

Afterwards, as the sweaty crowd broke out onto the street, their faces were illuminated by the street lights, and the setting, ten-thirty sun.

Smiles, were displayed from ear to ear. As small segments began to cheer:


Here we were. Disenfranchised youth, outside a rock’n’roll show not giving up hope. The now smouldering Kensington pyre, only kilometres away. Our chance to fight this unjust blatant austerity, perhaps, finally seeing the light of day. Should this be the beginning of the end, of their neo-liberalist ways? Where their facade dissolves, in the face of the amalgamation of the far-right, and their conservative central ways.

Should this year, ring true for all the global youth? Is this current dystopian reality – which could have only conceivably been dreamt-up, by a twenty something, amid a bad trip, before a twelve-hour televised marathon of The Apprentice – reaching its arc? Have we reached the cliff? The point, in which we regain hope. Regain power. Regain reality. Can we grapple with the times before us? Is it even possible, to undo this current historical fallout? Can we beat-out true catastrophe?

For, however we aim to evoke drastic global action, it becomes clearer with each day, it is the complacency of the masses, which must be forgone. A revolution, a revolt? Some sort of trigger must be sort, yet, it must be one without violence, unlike Franz Ferdinand’s assassination, before the war.

Something powerful, something righteous, something human. It must outdo, the cyberpunks, and Kesey’s pranksters. And, it should be greater than our current version of wireless connection. Which dreadfully, revolves around tax dodging multinational, entrepreneurial inventions.

Direction must be enforced. The failed ways, of the twentieth century must be squashed. Yesterday’s axioms must now be thwart. Instilled with new ideas, centred around humanities collective prosperity, for all. A destruction of centralised power, wealth and control. Will the victims of austerity finally have a voice? Will the disenfranchised victimised majority, seize the day, unlike ever before?

Is this even real anymore?

Trite Philosophy