RIOT GEAR

The brain belongs to the material, not the other way around. Meanwhile, there is a fire over at the nursery. How many firefighters will it take to put it out? Approximately ten. There is no follow up punchline. This is serious work. Save the kids. Got to. Always. Otherwise it all just stops happening. The whole dream sequence, the part where they run towards each other on the beach. Sorry George, your days up. Sorry Susan, try get some part time thing at the Casino or something. Yes, the kids. All nodding in time to the music, or well actually, nodding at different times to all sorts of different music. Macro silent disco. Half of them going at their own pace cos they've got it, the other half, unfortunately, just chucking money around. Money and time. Might be room for that book yet. What is the memory of money? Does cash dream? I had a coin in my pocket for a week and it kept having these hardcore night terrors, like one or two in the morning it would just flip out! No punchline, this is serious work. Anyway so the fire, they put it out and everyone is fine, oh like one foreign national got a bit critically injured but other than that. I read somewhere something about slaves and freedom. On a wall, I think. It was the wall of a bookshop, so like, you know. Anyway it said something like the slave who thinks he is free will be free forever. No, wait, a slave forever. Yeah, it was that. 

I was at a bar the other night, not with any one, just at a bar, cos it was a friday night and I was looking for something to do, you know, when you just really want to go out and do something, and so yeah I was at the bar and then there was this poet guy or something, no he was like a dj and he was talking to the audience about some chronic stuff, I didn't really get my head around it, but yeah he's talking and then starts singing and everyone's digging it, hell I was digging it, it was good shit, but then he just drops this real heavy stuff, like you could see it in his eyes, it was some kind of mania shit coming on, but then he chilled out and like I was wondering whether I was the only one that had noticed this, wondering whether it was just like a stage act or something or whether this guy was serious, and so I keep watching and I keep listening and I'm still thinking about the fire, cos you know, it was pretty bad, like, yeah real bad actually, that kid that got burned, I keep seeing him. I was the one that dragged him out of there. I'm stuck in that but then this even more chronic shit starts happening on stage and the dude is like shaking peoples hands battle style, you know, street style, and everyone is hugging and there's a dog in the bar barking really loudly and then everyone just piles out into the lane and the security guards are actually coming as well, cos they could hear it all going down from outside, and I'm caught up in the middle of all these crazy fucking people because there's too many and I can't make my way out of the massive group hug, this chick and this guy smiling at me and laughing and pulling on my jacket and getting their hair in my face but by this point it's not as bad as I originally thought and I start to laugh too, but then I think about the kid again and I see his face, but his face is smiling too and the dj or mc or whatever is yelling at us now and he's had like a costume change or something because now he is all got up in fatigues and boots and a helmet and he's sitting on top of a tank and we are right around the corner from Parliament and suddenly we are on the steps and there are police shooting the front line and I remember that I don't belong with these crazy fucking people and I don't want anything to do with their fucking schemes and wild eyed notions and the dog is barking fucking hysteric and the kid in my waking dream is crying and holding his burnt face and all of a sudden I've got a tear-gas canister in my hand and I'm hurling it back at the cops.