Friendly Deer

DAMN (generation) n°2

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Meiranesio/499998073434402

DAMN (generation) n°1

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Meiranesio/499998073434402

Looking out over the city of Toronto, a city Drake loves but a city Drake knows gets mixed reviews, Drake dreams of memes. He looks down at the slim gold chain on his chest and thinks the pun “Chaining Tatum.” He doesn’t chuckle, just purses his lips and then sends a freezing twirl of spit spiraling toward the gravel below, mumbling, “You’ve done it again.”

A computer-generated Drake stomps through the tundra, then settles into position. He notes with pride that his outfit stands in stark contrast to the snow and the washed-out mansion behind him. He will be so easy to Photoshop. CG Drake furrows his brow: “I’m so predictable, I hate people like me.” A single water molecule freezes in CG Drake’s tear duct, but he doesn’t move to wipe it away. He cannot. His 3D modelers have not yet given him that animation.

The stars rearrange themselves for Drake. The stars rearrange themselves into the inside of Drake’s Rolls-Royce. Drake thinks, “Who is driving?” Drake takes out his iPhone, opens Apple Maps. He whispers to whoever is in the front of the Royce: “I can GPS you if you need addressing.” Drake cackles. No one hears him. There is no one driving. There is no one Drake can trust to drive. Drake is in a snowbank in a Rolls-Royce. It is winter. It is cold. It is so cold.

Drake and his business associates have their weekly discussion on whether champagne itself is the metaphor, or if empty, gold-plated champagne glasses are the metaphor. They decide a lush leather couch is the metaphor and they sit upon it. One of them disagrees, and clings to an iPhone, which is the only object in this world that is not a metaphor, that is real. Drake says, “I made a decision last night and I would die for it.”The decision is a metaphor.

Drake tells you to pull every Gerbera daisy up by the roots and you oblige. The color was hurting your eyes. It is April. It is winter. “This is not a fairytale,” you growl at yourself. You tweet “my springtime days are over, fuck that season for life,” and Drake scribbles something in his planner with a red pen.

I’m going to help train our friend, I won’t stand to see him take this abuse any longer