alltsedan jag började skriva har jag lämnat texter runt mig på ytor lappar näsdukar i det outtalade minnet, på ytan av stundens gudshud, i handen på nån tjej eller en full snubbe på sniskan som vill prata om varningar där han raglar i ensamhet, jag stal på biblan, skrev i dom o lämnade åter, jag hoppade av tåg för att sno publikationer i nån uppsalabokia, skriva över alan moores prometheamålningar och sandman och gömma på serieteket

men nu finns utubkommentarer.

känner du dig ogranskad i ditt skrivande och språk, utan ett bollplank som träffar, syns, hörs och räknas? skriv en ärlig och uttömmande kommentar.

här är en sentida av mig som typiskt men prosaiskt exempel:

when nina simone feels cold, when terry callier singing lean on me or dancing girl means nothing to you, when krules rock bottom makes you feel even more like a loser, when diane clucks easy to be around feels shallow and vapid, when ani feels like a sellout and don cherrys hope and utopia and visions feel like noice that makes u hate music as a whole, when freddie gibbs feels like a boring bully, d'angelo makes u feel like talent as a concept is a lie, when madlib is irrelevant and kool keith is a sad crazy loser way off the mark, when you feel so bad that the lack of solace u get from our culture as a whole makes you wanna walk into the forest and die, when the waterboys we will not be lovers feels insincere, when the pixies hey feels old and repetative and annoying, when bone thugs and harmony fail to inspire your mojo, close your eyes and remember when u first heard cain game. that shit is the higher spiritual, emotional and somatic iteration of the orgasm, birth and lucid and painless confident death. is this what the christians feel? then we should maybe give these folk some space. cuz thank god we're alive for this. the second coming in quantum stereo. another commenter on another vid compared that song to entering heaven and he fucking meant it. thank god for you viper. the intel and joy u force down the throats of ur fanbase is just the medicine we need in the age of the dwindling fun, the dying gurus, sellouts, and dolls with slogans that get ghostly and creepy when u poke them, just like genaro said about the road to ixtlan. oh and wake up, tricky. ur off the mark. archive tho. that guy. bless his fucking awkward magician face. girlfriend in a coma, fuck you and get out, headspace is still just as good as the new stuff.peep that, vipes. we wanna see where u go tomorrow, but lets keep it new and fresh all the way through four decades. and lets do it so effortlessly that the ones lucky enough to catch it all will freeeze on the way to laughter and just stare in extacy. drink coke, kids. and masturbate to roisin murphys all versions ever of sing it back, or at least the original, that mix, some pinkpop live mess and her quarantine at home porn. then dont remember her mommas place. if u get that song, having seen her whole career (even live at the turn of the century in paris at her breakup and the death of moloko, like i did and cried to the only ones) go watch aldous hardings barrel, keiths poppa large, poppys voicemail, mansuns negative (on really high volume in crap headphones), archives restriction, the afghan whigs arabian heights, keiths jiggaman 2nd verse, afterhours full album in english (the hyena ballads) anais mitchells young man in america, lucy dacus best live gig of night shift, all by vada vada, focus on slater and cowgirl clue, tho puzzle started last year off so undeniable that it seems impossible how dwarfed he was by cowgirls debut and slaters march of dominance. speis cant get caught and ill put it on metal are almost as good again as butter rolls. then listen to all by belis. did u get/like? play them all at the same time, while watching a deep undercover fanvid of paperd up and sing along with that as you masturbate in the most relaxed and unforced manner ever in ur life, like a hilarious joke raping a happy walk in a park after nine in the nineties.

är den kommentaren skriven på fyllan, påverkad? är jag seriös? driver jag med mig själv? eller är det en tribut till vad en highbrow och äkta vipervaporwarememe kräver av skaparen och konsumenten? är jag glad eller ledsen?

just så självupptagen kan du va på utubcomments än idag och det spelar ingen roll alls, de du kan förarga och bli smäkt av är ju bara andra utubkommenterare, en varelse som hursom behandlas med respekten vi annars reserverar för nassar som runkar till woody allenfilm och poliser som skyddar pedos för deras likheter med adeln och de kungliga

arin berättade för jon om skaparens perspektiv. att du ibland ser just den kommentar du fruktat i ditt perfektionistiska självhat och bara vet att den killen i den knappt lästa lilla raden som står som svar 35 på nåt meningslöst inte har någon anledning att ljuga, där är vi bara vårt spåk och vår inre heliga vilja