3:23am
It’s late night and leading into early morning; this
year’s October has just begun. The cold sniffles have got me by the balls and I’m
trying to make this into an interesting thread before the sun catches me awake past
my deserved bedtime. The days are getting shorter with age. The memories
are still burning but the lighter is gathering some rust and needs maintenance.
I’m halfway through choosing my third movie of the evening. I’d decided to have
a retro cyberpunk binge viewing session; beginning with Blade Runner (1982),
followed by AKIRA (1988). The last selection of my trilogy isn’t even retro, it’s
a recent release called Who Am I – No System is Safe (Kein System ist sicher) a
German thriller about a hacker group grinding on the road to infamy. It’s the
closest I’ll get to a Hackers remake.
year’s October has just begun. The cold sniffles have got me by the balls and I’m
trying to make this into an interesting thread before the sun catches me awake past
my deserved bedtime. The days are getting shorter with age. The memories
are still burning but the lighter is gathering some rust and needs maintenance.
I’m halfway through choosing my third movie of the evening. I’d decided to have
a retro cyberpunk binge viewing session; beginning with Blade Runner (1982),
followed by AKIRA (1988). The last selection of my trilogy isn’t even retro, it’s
a recent release called Who Am I – No System is Safe (Kein System ist sicher) a
German thriller about a hacker group grinding on the road to infamy. It’s the
closest I’ll get to a Hackers remake.
3:30am
Well that was futile. I couldn’t even find the damn
flick. I’ve been hunched back into my leather chair listening to my 80’s
playlist of songs and staring at my Hunter S. Thompson poster for five minutes;
why did I ever buy Where the Buffalo Roam (1980) on DVD?
flick. I’ve been hunched back into my leather chair listening to my 80’s
playlist of songs and staring at my Hunter S. Thompson poster for five minutes;
why did I ever buy Where the Buffalo Roam (1980) on DVD?
Mindlessly chopping away at the keys, typing in
whatever random thoughts turn over from the deck of my subconscious. It’s
perfect because this is when the carnival starts, the merry-go-round in my
brain, no different from the one in the LOST BOYS (1987). Spinning in circles
with gaudy decals and out dated bulbs… Let’s see where my fingers take me.
Clicking through my playlists and double backing like a screwed and chopped
sleuth. I took another listen to Trevor Something’s – Trevor Something Does Not
Exist album. Then I give Timecop1983’s new album a good listen and it results in
my immediate enjoyment. Before I know it the blue haze is creeping up outside
my window and I have forgotten most of the ideas I initially had a few minutes
ago.
whatever random thoughts turn over from the deck of my subconscious. It’s
perfect because this is when the carnival starts, the merry-go-round in my
brain, no different from the one in the LOST BOYS (1987). Spinning in circles
with gaudy decals and out dated bulbs… Let’s see where my fingers take me.
Clicking through my playlists and double backing like a screwed and chopped
sleuth. I took another listen to Trevor Something’s – Trevor Something Does Not
Exist album. Then I give Timecop1983’s new album a good listen and it results in
my immediate enjoyment. Before I know it the blue haze is creeping up outside
my window and I have forgotten most of the ideas I initially had a few minutes
ago.
5:45am
After, finally removing my boots I can feel it
coming. Sleep is almost here. I ended up drinking some chilled Modelo’s and
instant chatted with a vaporwave artist from Ontario, Canada named SYLLABUS (facebook/vaporwave.is.dead) about his
recent release. We kept jonesing about childhood like a deleted scene from a high
school reunion on how cool it once was to leave your house and go to the store
to pick up cassette tapes at the local music shop. Remember Cassingles? We even
agreed that Return of the Living Dead (1985) zombies could kick the asses of the
walkers on a certain cable shows. “Good people”, is all I can say.
coming. Sleep is almost here. I ended up drinking some chilled Modelo’s and
instant chatted with a vaporwave artist from Ontario, Canada named SYLLABUS (facebook/vaporwave.is.dead) about his
recent release. We kept jonesing about childhood like a deleted scene from a high
school reunion on how cool it once was to leave your house and go to the store
to pick up cassette tapes at the local music shop. Remember Cassingles? We even
agreed that Return of the Living Dead (1985) zombies could kick the asses of the
walkers on a certain cable shows. “Good people”, is all I can say.
6:14am
I made a nice little Cyberpunk themed playlist for
myself called Blade Runner Nights with some bits from different artists; a few
NRW and some from elsewhere or yesteryear. The title could’ve been better but
the carnival is slowing down. Writer’s block has me in her grip these past
couple of days. All I can do is wait and
tease these syllables a little bit here and there. Probably put on some Joe
Frank monologues or something before bed. UP ALL NIGHT is down for the count
again. A head full of cold sickness and a napkin stuffed up my decommissioned Charlie
snout. Maybe I’ll have a dream like a Michael Mann film. Maybe, I’ll dream of
women with crimped hair, maybe not. Maybe I won’t dream at all and just fade.
Maybe but I hope not. Only thing left to do is just lay back and close my eyes
and fall into it. Before, I become just another internal monologue from a
sleepless flashback artist and lo-fi delinquent.
myself called Blade Runner Nights with some bits from different artists; a few
NRW and some from elsewhere or yesteryear. The title could’ve been better but
the carnival is slowing down. Writer’s block has me in her grip these past
couple of days. All I can do is wait and
tease these syllables a little bit here and there. Probably put on some Joe
Frank monologues or something before bed. UP ALL NIGHT is down for the count
again. A head full of cold sickness and a napkin stuffed up my decommissioned Charlie
snout. Maybe I’ll have a dream like a Michael Mann film. Maybe, I’ll dream of
women with crimped hair, maybe not. Maybe I won’t dream at all and just fade.
Maybe but I hope not. Only thing left to do is just lay back and close my eyes
and fall into it. Before, I become just another internal monologue from a
sleepless flashback artist and lo-fi delinquent.
– Sam Haine
(Above photo courtesy of Hainesville)
