NOTE: I honestly have no idea what I was trying to do with this text, but, reading it, it seems to have a weird logic of its own and I like myself when I do that, though heaven knows I have no clue what I just did. Plenty of references – you’re welcome to guess them (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). Also, the poem I took the motto from, “Hotel Lautréamont” by John Ashbery, can be read in its entirety here.
Now, silently as one mounts a stair we emerge into the open
but it is shrouded, veiled: We must have made some ghastly error.
To end the standoff that history long ago began
must we thrust ever onward, into perversity?
(John Ashbery, “Hotel Lautréamont”)
Baby, woke up one morning
and thought I was Baudelaire.
Woke up that morning, darling,
in the Lautréamont hotel –
It’s like the Overlook,
with less fancy décor
but way better ghosts.
I barricade my walls –
and, still, some rays get through
if you can’t find the cracks,
I guess the joke’s on you.
Precious, I will not embrace
and call it liberation gold.
I will not dream the plastic dreams
debated on talk shows.
I am heaven.
I am hell.
In fact I’m mostly kind.
I’ll come out for a cookie,
and a slice of your pretty mind.
We are all made of stars
and pull each other down –
when gravity says we can dance.
I say – astrophysics for all,
shout the principles of string theory
on street corners and inside shopping malls –
because that, my friends,
is no way to treat other stars.