wake up early and run towards the coast, hold your flip flops in the hand and feel the water. hold your breath, the sewer ends up in the shore. it’s a chocolate sea, we might need some dope. the sea and the sand make parallel lines. they’re straight as an old punk rock song. it is around 1999, but there’s still plenty people wearing wrist spikes. I want candy. psychocandy! free way isn’t as fast as the autobahn, so do me a solid and play that kraftwerk. it’s rainy, foggy, windy and silly. this chocolate sea is as good as it gets. walked ‘till was dawn and slept on the playground. they said we have broken the merry-go-round. bought some incense to disguise the smell of pot. I think mom and dad would also love to get stoned. let’s burn the books and get our minds blown. I guess is time to be gone.

I’ve put my name on the list, payed half price, double rounded one too many, left the party insane. at home I lay on the bathtub and then I struggled against myself. barfed all over the toilet, forgot to mop, now I’m half asleep still feeling the pain it´s just childish nonsense, but I do care for my health. they party from night to day then wait the five and a half train. I’d rather call a cab, ‘cause I do care for my health why qualify me as a square? you think I need to be spared, well, I think we are all far from the edge. I do not yearn for cash, I do not even smoke hash.

can I see your records? I love the way they’re organized! for years I’ve been wasting my ears with digital files I want the touch and I want the feel of vinyl grooves and cassette hiss why we’ve been duped for so long? are the fetishists back again for good? is gourmet life the new hype? I don’t even know... if is it good or bad? but man, the prices on those tags... now don’t forget the indie spices: so pour your draft on a proper glass; trim your beard; but leave the mustache. indie cindy, are you swimming upstream? slack motherfucker, don’t you work on that food truck ever again. I am grounded. I shouldn’t have played so loud. so I’ll sing for now on only to my bedroom walls. these things they do to the neighborhood will kill the music life for good.

i’m having my breakfast out. soup at four a.m. i was not at a party. i was finishing my twin peaks marathon. all along, it was just me and my cats. they say it’s dangerous to be out after dark. but i was not afraid at all. all along, it was just me in my flat.

there’s rain here. there’s fog here. early morning. every season. but this is not liverpool. I know it is hard to accept. apart of some eighties bands, this is as far as we can get. we have rockers. and we have mod’s. even fun houses... early morning, this is not liverpool. every season, this is not liverpool.

night life is coming to an end ‘cause all the pubs are being closed. but you’ve got to see our sunsets, and you’ve got to meet our residents. all the noise is being forbidden. you can feel how that is imminent. it’s just the way things are, I guess I’ll stay in my bedroom tonight it’s just the way things roll, I think I’ll work on some songs alone it’s just the way things are, I won’t play on that gig and that’s fine we haven’t seeing no one for days. the mayor made some bad choices. have you been guided by voices? take that shoe gaze off your face. have you seen the cracks on the pavement? you never walk beyond the basement.

some people would say this is mainly dumb rock. are you ready to be part of them? we should not be confused with those sport jocks. well, at least I would not put it that way. it’s a suburban lifestyle and you don’t get it! it’s not so hard to understand, we speed it up towards the edge. we drive our cars as fast as we can! we boost our stereos until they vibrate! we pimp our rides and ask amèlie to dance! we screech the tires and then hear some trance! how can you act like you not impressed? look at our cars! look at us, rats! it’s not so hard to understand, take a ride and hear our pledge. we’re spinning! we’re speeding! we’re steering! we’re screeching! we’re drinking! we’re twisting! we’re bleeding!

you know it is obsolete. second-handed fashion from nyc. but we wanted to sound like it. or from chapel hill, nc. we may look like we’re from the northwest, but this should not be the way that we dress. so why make it so hard to live our lives lost in the tropics? we play seek and hide even tough no one’s looking for us. there is no great gig in the sky, all the outsiders are filling the clouds. out of the province I wish to fly, to get us out of the urban sprawl. sink my car (into the ocean!), sink my bike (into the flood!), and get us out of the urban sprawl.

we wonder how would be life outside the province. back in the golden days some flew to live in são paulo. they’ve never found a fucking place. well, they never found it here. we wonder how would be life outside the province. back in the nineteen eighties a helicopter flew away. she never found the queen of the sea. back in the eighties we looked forward to two thousand. back in two thousand we looked backwards to the eighties. we wonder how would be life outside the province.

i’ve lost my edge. i have lost my edge. i have lost my edge for good. i’ve lost my edge. i’ve lost my edge with all the kids that are coming from behind. i’ve lost my edge with these jocks with mussed hair and wayfarers, but i was there. i was there when everyone was talking about bruno latour. they used to post pictures of last saturday gourmet diner and of bottles of craft beer they drank downtown. they applied filters. i’ve lost my edge after all these nonsense. but i was there (yes, i was there). i was there on the last lcd soundsystem concert and you watched it on a shitty streaming on your smartphone. but i was there! i was on the democratic corner on a daily basis when no one gave a shit to tony da gatorra. i was at every single graforreia’s christmas concert because i wanted to hear something real. i used to party at the first beco at joão pessoa when it used to have only one floor and 12 people in and a mattress on the floor. i used to go there when everybody was into amèlie poulin. they were ahead of me. they heard something called sigur rós. which was more relevant then what i was into, which was smashing pumpkins. but i was there. i have never been wrong. i worked as a webwritter. me and almost everyone else i’ve met. then i reflected about it through pierre lévy. then through flusser and shannon and weaver. i used to have a blog and a photolog. i was there! oh yes indeed, i was there! you should have seen my compilation of marxist authors. you should see my excerpts of semiotics books. i’ve heard that you sold all your books and bought kindles. i’ve heard that you write on your books with yellow markers because you wanted it to look real. i’ve heard that all the authors that you quote are more relevant then the authors that i quote. i’ve heard that you and your research group abandoned structuralism and now read phenomenology. i’ve heard that you and your research group abandoned phenomenology and now read structuralism. they say that you have bought molecular biology and physics books and threw away your linguistic and semiotics books because you wanted to study something real. i was there when adorno made a joke about swimsuits, and when flusser mentioned brigitte bardot’s breasts, and when peirce became buddist. i was there when deleuze and guattari said that god is a lobster, and when they said stuff about the asshole of the goat, i was the first one to comment about it with eric aillez. i was there when you migrated to the group of studies on aesthetics and when you tried to publish at routledge and was rejected. i used to go to your party at laika when it was at santana. and it happened on a single floor. and i knew everyone that was there. they used to sell bavaria premium. and they projected rocky horror show on the screen. i was there, but i’ve lost my edge because you never read my books and you never listen to my records. billy childish and the remodernists, stuart hall, bob dylan’s basement tapes, son house, nirvana’s incestiside, glenn branca, television, tv on the radio and ok computer, captain beefheart, beck, adorno, daniel johnston with jad fair, zielinsky, speculative realism, gumbrecht, repolho, the home tapes of neutral milk hotel, old magic pallas, aristóteles de ananias jr., josé miguel wisnik, pixies, lautmusik, lotman, swervedriver, spacemen 3, irene machado, lévy-strauss, henri bergson, david hume, fagner with hermeto paschoal, wesley willis, my bloody valentine, barthes, pavement, guided by voices, umberto eco, jaques derrida, greimas, superguidis, ethnomusicolgy, earth, eisenstein, tyler the creator, vertov and glauber, glass and reich, the sonics, the sonics, built to spill, kittler, new order, nicklas luhmann, procura-se quem fez isso, beat happening, steven shaviro, macintosh plus and all that vaporwave, marx and engels, (and i do not mean that belle & sebastian song), robert fripp and brian eno, which i love to keep close to the best of erik satie, cocteau twins, barbie kill, kyuss, van morrison, parikka, arrigo barnabé, quarteto em cy, damião experiença, florence foster jenkins, eloy fernandez porta, musical amizade, alan resnais, jandek. goddard, “what about arctic monkeys?” oh, give me a break! boards of canada, tom zé estudando o samba, devo, floricultura, spinosa, deleuze reading foucault, sleater-kinney, catherine lutz, bergson reading einstein, loomer, minutemen and hüsker du, ultralatinos, the ledgendary stardust cowboy, “oh, you can have this los hermanos record, it is all yours, i also don’t give a shit to guy débord anymore, lcd soundsystem? well, they still have it. besides that, all these things i don’t read or listen to anymore because i used to like them before they were cool”.