Days Volume Two

* He still didn't know where they came from. The malls of ruined statues. The glistening hyper-spun glue that coated every surface. The half formed voices snapping in the unquiet wind. All was at discord and all was at peace. The stabs of pain were a reminder of mortality. The workers watched him as he passed; always at roughly the same time, 4 am. It had been the same in Sydney. Restless in Seattle was the only title that came to mind, trite, as he walked restless, gassap gassai, through this astonishing, 24-hour place, the fleets of neon pink and blue taxis passing beneath the overpass, the soaring high rise condos, the Ascot, The Sathon, Welcome To The Future, Ambience Arriving Soon declare the signs, Starting 3.5 MB, Mingle, Where You Live Says Who You Are, The Riverside, A New Kind Of Luxury, soar above them all they imply, away from the traditional streets, the crowded rooms, the Thais uncomfortable if they're alone, four to a room, a way of life at odds with the soari...

* How did that matter? You, me, finished now, he heard the voice shout. He could hear them coming out of all the houses. He could hear every sputter of a bike in the surrounding network of sois, coming for me, coming to see me, he thought, but of course these were all illusions masquerading in a masque, the fabric of things. He had sat in front of the computer finishing off Chaos and now it was time to move on to something else. Fortunes were made and lost. Midlake and the Deep Dark Woods had been getting a bit of a thrashing, inter-cut with Bob Dylan's Desire, Blonde on Blonde and even Stranger Strange, how you listen to the river of my curdled song. These were the days, but were they really? The synapses misfiring. Mistrust all around. Treachery. He knew he was being set up. He walked the other way. He talked for hours to the strange little man. Was there any way around this, or through this? Crashing, crashing. Preoccupations came and went so swiftly. The boys all told him la...