DeathLabs

in the migration in the mythic-historic-human complex from past to future, from power being invested in the old to power being invested in the young, and the old now foolish in their massive senescence, their technological obsolescence, the young not being permitted to nicely and biologically kill them but – yes – to sustain them as props for the stages on which they bounce – how do the old combat in this reconfiguration of energy, this simian and aesthetic comedy, this social inferno, this revitalized death?

is this not capitalism’s function and necessity?  to give the old a purpose, turning them into economic units for the young – the young’s revenge, for being used so cruelly for such millennia for the sweat and pleasure of their elders?  but now the old – if they have fulfilled themselves at all – have amassed property and savings, protected their retirements, carved a little monument of name … the established old passing their knowledge of amassment to the young (this the formal educational and therapeutic process).  but even if the coin was once tossed heads and is now tails, both sides remain bound to an alloyed currency, a pocket jingle, a cosmological flip in the indifferent air. 

and for those who attempt to simulate the air and nurture indifference in the sacred capitalistic environments in which they find themselves, environments with neither soil nor indigenous horticultural techniques, for whom then young and old, poor and rich, future and past, foolishness and wisdom, obsolescence and currency, power and poverty are all sides of the same randomness of jingling change?  what are they?

do we not see them indiscriminately driving the vans of DeathLabs through the cityspeaks of now, cackling like water bottles, blinking like cells, exiled from opposition like clinical tests on the flesh of an unknown god.