You click your ruby slippers together thinking, “There’s no place like home.” But you’re already home. There’s really nowhere else to go. You accidentally walked through the wrong door, disregarding the out of order sign. In your defense, it can be difficult to see in this mask.
In no time at all, you’re tied up and strapped into the dentist chair. Chaos — bluebirds, coils, springs and fake meat — does flybys past your face, half-animation / half-live-action. There are more spills than contact during the procedure; it’s pick-up-sticks, blowtorch haircuts, tongues and floppy rubber burns. Everything is out of order. The thermostat indicates an increase in carbonation levels as the doctor gladly demonstrates how many baked beans he can eat in under an hour. He scrapes boom boom sauce off a blowtorch-charred bun with his fingernails while diving into the kettle of baked beans. The slab of fake meat bounces across the checkered tiles. You click your ruby slippers together thinking, “There’s no way to keep time with all this chaos, I don’t know why I bother clicking my ruby slippers together. I don’t know why I bother thinking.”
More about: Fritz Welch, Olivier Di Placido
