If life's some kind of dance then we’re the music. If it’s a song we’re the words. An exotica soundtrack of mambo mumbo jumbo. A saucy salsa Flamenco caliente with a tangy tango twist. The art of living within realms of sight and sound creating boundless horizons of thought. A symphony of shared experience and different truths. Not believed true until seen in wide-eyed open plain view. The stuff that makes rhythms sway making beats bounce banging out counter intuitive measures in colors of sound.
Signature notes follow bebop treble clef along stanza lines of poetry. Up and down the scales jazzy mezzo tempos. Moving fast or slow depending on the mood. Melodic pitch colors all tunes. The same old song and dance grows weary after too many revolutions per minute and a few martinis. The spinning combined with the sauce makes for a jaunty ride. Accustomed to the get down, get on up inner ear waltz of off balanced equilibriums. The circular motion orbiting around the celestial orchestra pit going through your head. The soundproof acoustic tiles of classic silence. What color do you hear? What sounds can you see?
In this concert, the old gods imitate maestros of musical mayhem in vintage reruns and mime act life’s augmented reality series. The natural world has no need or use for artificial intelligence. The hive mentality of the hard head hurts. The conductor’s baton moves. An instrument produces sounds. A symphony in unison with a doctrine in politics of religion is a religion of politics. They couldn’t co-exist without devouring each other. In the cannibal concerto they take care of business. It’s a mondo clash of the real vs. make believe. No one detects even a subtle difference. Is it live or pre-recorded? Lip sync synthetic sounds synthesized like a corny tune from the late-1960s. “Make your own kinda music, sing your own special song” and follow the beat of a different drummer.
The billionaire’s billionaire implants nanobots inside peoples’ heads. Just under the skin there’s the digital chip app, making sounds like music. Controlling your vocal chords through brain waves of strange orchestral-like frequencies. Coloring the words field of vision as translucent info floats across the invisible screen that’s your sight. In the upper left is the local weather along with the time and calendar. By simply thinking about weather in another location it appears, pull up the calendar and check your schedule. Become one with technology using only puny organic brainwaves. At bottom right a movie plays already in progress. To the left all the social media apps hang out at the ready for easy access. Commercial ads can be deleted for a nominal fee.
All the music produced worldwide stuck on a pinhead imbedded in your thick skull can be pulled up by an accessed by voice commands or thought orders. For example, play “Wild Thing” by the Troggs and it’ll begin, then think other cover recordings of the selected song and a list of every cover version of the original tune will scroll up in your eye screen. You can choose and delete at will by blinking an eye. Left eye blink deletes, right eye blink once plays first song in the list. Blink twice to fast forward and three times to rewind. Small earbuds implanted just under the skin behind the ears play stereophonic quality sound with controllers for volume, balance, treble and bass hard wired into your brain wave patterns.
A consequence of the modern age led us to this day when flesh becomes one with machines. The original five senses are now limitless in an age of extra sensory perception. Manual labor’s no longer necessary. You control the equipment from the comfort of your command recliner chair. Grass needs mowing? No problem, pull up the lawn tractor app and set your internal GPS to your property perimeters. Turn on the program, sit back and relax. Watch the cable TV feature as you effortlessly vacuum the entire house while mowing the lawn. Don’t see what you want? Just think about it and make it happen. Eventually, we’ll mutate into a gelatinous blob of flesh. Arms and legs will atrophy and gradually shrivel and fall off. No need for sex organs or procreation. Everything we need will be a thought away, as the colors swirl before your electronic TV eye. An ethereal song of spheres and cones floating right through your head. Protons and neutrons commingle and the simulated angels will lull you to eternal sleep as they strum their harps. Welcome to the future. The time is always in flux. The circle is finally complete. We’ve arrived on schedule becoming grand electro meat machines. Welcome home.