#frstlady

                ❛     SO         MANY         PROBLEMS            ---------            you         can         take         your         pick            .    ❜

  UNWASHED AND SOMEWHAT SLIGHTLY DAZED; there’s a bass guitar thrumming, humming in the background to a synthesised beat. Neon paints him golden, neon paints him harshly; strange light makes stranger shadows and he’s already too big for the space he occupies ( ALL EYES ON THE SAVIOUR MACHINE! ); titling the stage on its axis with a Cheshire grin and everything about him seems to glow. THERE’S A STARMAN WAITING TO YOUR RIGHT -- He’d like to come and meet you, and he knows he’ll blow your mind. Languid, piratically melting into the bar; a fruity little drink in his hands instead of a cigarette and the static buzzes, hums around him; space flexing and pushing to accommodate the Mega Star. This is ground control to Major Tom! It’s another day in the Great Utopia Dream: we want you!   “I’m not in the habit of visiting angels and demons, but I HAD TO PHONE SOMEONE SO I PICKED ON YOU.” Switch on the TV, we may pick him up on channel two. The mirror image of a mirror image; reverb echoing and something in his face flickers, spasms -- RGB channels separating from the cathode ray and the key changes, picks up the pace. God knows, God knows, God knows, GOD KNOWS I’M GOOD! Non-threatening; genteel; poly blend suit creasing and he effortlessly slides the cosmopolitan in his hands down the sticky linoleum -- sends it sailing down, down, down to hell. WE ARE THE HUNGRY MEN. WE DON’T GIVE A DAMN FOR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING! WE’RE HERE TO EAT YOU. Energy efficient eyes all blown out and it’s a hollow stare, a starved one; dry tongue darting out to curl around acrylic teeth and the synthetic skin peeeeeeeels, splits; the acrid scent of an electric fire filling the air. “I’ve come for a chat. Just a chat. So, will you buy a drink for me?” WILL YOU BUY A DRINK FOR ME, YOUR MESSIAH?