Not too sure what it is, but Alan Sond’s Clown Around Town got at me twisted-cursed, like. One of these days, some dimensional rift will suddenly rip open, and Earth will en masse immediately be in contact with infinite knowledge of other life-forces throughout the universe. The rift will tear open all human minds’ possibility of life-everlasting and the investment of how to distribute ego below the abundance of caring for one’s self. Selfies as a pure way of life and income to stabilize a family elsewhere in this galaxy. Alan Sond is our soundtrack’s curator to human existences’ transportation.
An overwhelming sense of positivity overwhelms humankind; a mass exodus occurs from Earth, and everyone flees to their own “island in the sky.” Upon this “island” is an occupation where you’re the most popular (and only) human on that singular planet. There, each human blooms into a cultural bullet-point for everything human. The whole afternoon, Clown Around Town in a sea of focus, irradiated by abundant attention, and it’s summertime all the time, but they call it ”Ṉ̬̦͖̠̩̪e̯͈z̰͍p̧͈͉̥͉̳e̩͍̘̜̣̱r͚͚.”
[Visit full site to view media]LI$014 by Alan Sond
The universe has been jealous of humanity for an infinite amount of reasons. Upon “One of these days,” humanity will sever-overload into extinction, because all they want is their own piece of sky pie. Travel upon travel upon travel; where is it do we ever end up? In isolation. We family, or we don’t. We keep connected through internet-like structures. Communication happens just as frequently with the rest of human beings, but worlds apart. Such as public relations on social media for the freest of low income $quadrons.
“Debra, Debra. Debra! Listen, Debra. Debra! I-I… listen, listen, listen… Lemme, Lemme tell you something. You bout, you gotta listen! You better get outta my face, Debra. I’m telling you. You better get out… listen, listen… You better get outta my face. You better get outta my face, Debra. Listen, listen, listen… listen, listen, let me, let me… You know what? You know what, Debra? You know what, Debra? You know what, Debra? I-I I’m not even gone go there with you. I’m not even gone go there with you. You know what? You know what? You can call me —what? You know what, she probably… you know what that’s good —that’s good. That’s good. That’s good!!! Whatever you want to call me. Whatever you wanna… Debra, Debra, Debra. Debra! As long as you don’t put your hands on me… guess what!
Live streams happen in fragments as worlds transcend time. Loss of reality opens up the possibility we’re all dead and stuck in our own existence. It’s either too dark or too light to distinguish where or when you find reality. Consciousness of REM and dream state all wither of being, so that a constant social media feed is all one “is” and/or “to be.” Apologies: we chose to be disconnected in communication of our lives. The advertisement as human being existed in the absence of greeting, “Hi.” Alan Sond’s Clown Around Town sustains the hold-please genre of pause-screen existence in the following.