We are all drones, you know and you heard before, marching ever forward and backward, backward and forward, in lockstep, equal motion, emotion, into a future of sameness wherein everyone, every BODY, all of us, will perform the same menial functions and funk shuns at the same rate; we will be outraged in equal portions, and we will be bots. Different faces. Same clothes. Sane clothes. Different physically, outside, but our mentality, this thinking, capability for variant thought, it is shrinking, and the world is small, smaller, smallest. Tiny. No matter.
Convenience. Convenience. All you care about is convenience. At the risk of your sanity? You want clothing out of a vending machine? Fine. Kate Spade did it. Makeup? Fine. L’Oreal did it. And soon Uniqlo. More vending. More spending. More ending. Climate. change. Clothes to go. Emotions to go. Ready to go. Re’y to go. For sale. In the Oakland airport. That old good Oakland airport. Then nine more. Hollywood. Houston. New York. Because they’re coming. They’re coming! And you’ll be running. Without a shirt, and just one shoe. Yelling, “I need clothes! I need clothes!” The Thing That Comes For Us chases you, so you hit the machine, the vendor, in desperation, in preparation. They’re coming. They’re coming. A heat-tech t-shirt for $14.90. But your soul is free.
Is this the (v)end?
The end.
No, it’s a sign.
GET JEZEBEL RIGHT IN YOUR INBOX
Still here. Still without airbrushing. Still with teeth.
