r a k e t a GOLD - Everything Matters
What matters to you? Even stickers, that "ok-stamp" that very personal way to be unpersonal? Ever tried it!
Invades the city with gold stickers, Like medals rained onto the thoroughfares Medals stamped out on the street on things, on houses, on lamps, on restaurants on sunset boulevard on hollywood boulevard on silverlake boulevard in neutra's house in wrights's house in that city of golden angels which we all know takes over our imagination chandler in the hills kerouac on the road Ever tried it! Something, anything that can mean something else if but for a moment before the drive by, roll by, slow bye bye of that dream of all cities air conditioned to the only future we have Ever tried it Go gold put a sticker on your favourite place thing house friend shop recommend angels and street corners recommend anonymity until you recognise it become your own city guide the golden guide the statuette the oscar of stickers plastered until the city glistens from those who get to know each other that haven't had a chance until the city glistens from places that had no friends until they were tagged until the city glistens from the invisible events that always mean something more than we think until the city glistens from the children that label their first time for it to remain their first time for it all to become memory Everything matters Ever tried it? Ever forgotten it? Ever protested against the light? Ever seen a mountain that is not a mountain in swedish fjäll, not berg a portable moving stage, a fold-up-and-around stage on the back of a pick up a room to go around where everything matters Ever tried it? where the last century is reduced to 2 minute lectures from the back of the pick up where architecture is involuntary until you decide when it is not where the pick up arrives at LAX collects the visitor and sees the gold orbs guiding everyone into the city where everything matters and everything is matter. Ever tried it? r a k e t a Gold r a k e t a recommends in L:A a r a k e t a fanzine... then the rockets returns... the mountain folds up. the visitor leaves the city and we all call on the angels once more to resist what we should never call poetry in the first place. --------------------------------------------------------- |