Feeling strange and remote. My thoughts are spilling out like foul milk. Mother always said don't cry over spilled milk.
Inspiration is meted out with swift justice to those ready and receptive. How are you feeling? Are you inspired? Ready? Receptive? Sometimes that's what it takes to live. To really live at your best. Allowing that inspiration to course through your veins like the harshest of liquors. Or, for the glass half full crew, like the purest of country wines.
It comes and goes doesn't it? Almost at will. I've beaten my head against the wall countless thousands of times trying to force it to surface, to get a glimpse of its light through hard, black curtains.
Yet when it comes it's not usually a sordid petite tumble of raindrops. No, it's a torrent of unfulfilled desires ready to be awakened and harnessed as brutal energies, whipped up into a frenzy for the taking. A waterfall of creativity. And so, if you're ready and strong, you can take that energy and create something out of it.
They say that if you only followed through on 0.1 % of the ideas that come into your head on a daily basis you could really change everything.
Operating on 0.03% right now. Right now! At this moment! How many ideas have i dreamed and let go? Too many. It's a total crime. I should be locked up in the prison of the unmotivated - a shallow little shack on the dirt floor of a crater somewhere in Iraq.
All right I'm warmed up. Are you?
Getting into the swing of things.
So I posted a completely new track. "Treason" is about a girl who falls in love with a guy who ends up turning her in because she is out of a job. See, in the story of the album, the song preceding this one is called "The Factory", which is about this very same girl (named Marie) who gets fired by the factory owner because she is too human, and thus inefficient.
We're being compared to robots in our work places. Even expected to behave like robots. God help you if you show feeling or emotion, caring, sensitivity or, that most ghastly of human traits - weakness! We are to be models of efficiency.
Now, it's funny that we are responsible for this system. In a way, we are like foul wandering hungry dogs feeding on each other, desperate for that next piece of meat, that shiny nickel of freedom known as monetary wealth.
You taste like chicken.
Nickel and dimed to death.
The shoe factories. The sweatshops. Your office. Batteries in the matrix.
So. Am I putting food on my table? Fuck it, I made it at home and I am selling it from home. What better way to live. There is no Miller Beer banner atop this stage! I can say and do as I please (for now!).
So back to the song.
What you hear is how it sits, finished and complete, though out of context based on the concept of the album, and missing the end segue. This track serves as the final emotional pinnacle of the record, a climax of tragedy born from a system bent on total control. Sound familiar?
I think you've guessed that "The Orwellian Night" is a parody of today. A simple narration and comment on the drivel of the corporate line, the corporate life. God help us all. Can we control this beast of burden that we created? WHat is the end result of this line of evolution?
With love,
-Sever
TRIBAL MACHINE
