Author Topic: Gettin' paid  (Read 1143 times)


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Gettin' paid
« on: December 14, 2007, 06:50:23 am »
Some hipster magazine wanted me and a photography buddy wanted us to do a piece or thing on a local band called POWPOW.

Images are not taken yet, but this is probably what will be accompanying them:

The locals scream in a language we can't fully fathom, using only parts of
it in our daily routine, cerveza, cheviche, por favor. The locals seem
upset about the english whales that have stranded on the beach, rubbing
their bellies with pina coladas, reminding the tourists why they deep down
inside themselves feel shame.
The neverending destination of chartertourism. The death of credibillity
and originality under the tyranny of aryan masses. Blind idiot gods with
no desire to understand the culture ravage the streets, asking for fish
and chips at the kabob stand before going over to the supermarket to get
themselves a nice sixer of Guinness.
The hotel is dirty but it has charm and a tequila bar in the basement,
where young senoritas serve it from their cinderella shoes, the owner of
the hotel is Enrique, a sleazy old man who sits in the lobby in his cheap
suit with cheap cigarillos bidding every young girl welcome. His son,
Pepe, sits by the counter and the thing that hits after a while, perhaps
while standing in the elevator is that it's the same music, whereever you
go and it fits the mood perfectly, like an old faded polaroid from
sometime in the 70's.
The tunes become our tunes as we mix them with what the senoritas in the
basement sings, slapping kettles and asses for the rhythms and as the day
goes by we become more weary of our charter limbo and everything slides
out of control and we leave the old hotel, we leave the music to add to
the whalesong as we ascend the stairs leading away from it all, a memory
we'll always have an ambivalent relationship to as we climb into the plane
that's here to take us out of this over-civillized world and back to our
own and as we fall asleep on the plane, hungover and filled with soothing
pills we fall asleep to the memories of the muzak.

music can be heard at
Everyone will always be too late