Brenda’s Unfortunate Record Of The Week #8
What does one write about in a week like this? All our social media feeds are clogged with the fallout. Does one add to it – is there anything else new or interesting to say? Can it even be funny? Probably not.
But I’m in Mexico, jetlagged, a few tequilas in & about to play a show. I don’t have the strength to venture ‘hors sujet’. So here are some musings I rattled out yesterday …..
9/11
I am flying to the heartland. Literally. Like an arrow shot at dawn, in trajectory across the Atlantic, I will be landing in Dallas in a matter of hours.
My alarm was set for 610am but I awoke 50 minutes earlier. I’d been dreaming. Westworld inspired I was an escort / employed guest at some high flying dinner party – there to seduce the clients & paid on commission. Myself and another girl who introduced herself as ‘Alice, but everyone calls me Aisha’ were watching as a pack of A-list actors moved in on our territory, knowing so long as they were in the room, we wouldn’t be making much money. It was annoying our employers had chosen to buy them in too. A waiter came by asking us to sample the incredibly rich consumé he was serving as a starter. He spilled it on my chest and Alice but call me Aisha kicked off, ‘why do we always have to eat this overly fancy, calorie packed shit? Can’t you find us a healthier alternative?’. He came back with some potted shrimp and melba toast. A little later on we were in a hotel room with one of the actors. I suddenly remembered the election and checked my phone. ‘Holy fuck he’s won.’ The image on my screen was of flames licking the stars and stripes. The others didn’t believe me & there was some commotion as I showed the proof. And then I woke up. With a start. And really checked my phone. And saw that I’d been right all along. I wasn’t surprised. I’d gone to bed saying I was worried about it but everyone else seemed to think it would be okay. It was the same with Brexit. I knew it would happen, given sorry state of world affairs….
I try to avoid the Facebook feeds, the streams of shocked posts and comments … like they didn’t realise we’re all in our little bubble. And the last thing I’d wanna do is turn on the television. But arriving at Heathrow there are screens everywhere and whilst waiting to board, no matter how hard I try not to look, his smug face is beaming out in the corner of my eye. And it looks like a farce. A genuine fucking farce. Like a terrible Hollywood movie. In the taxi Magic FM said Sarah Palin was to become Secretary Of State. It couldn’t be more absurd. And yet …. I feel nothing.
I am soaring towards the US of A. On 9/11. The day they elected Donald Trump for president.
……………..
Now I’m sat in Dallas Fort Worth & have been trying to find a good bar. I ate when I arrived and maybe shoulda stayed in the international terminal, but I wanted to move my legs. Besides, it was empty. I’m looking for inspiration.
Wandering around this massive airport the first thing which strikes me is how white everyone is & how the man to woman ratio is totally out of sync. Aside from the staff, that is. I know we’re in Texas but still, this is AA’s hub – imagine it would be more representative of the country as a whole. But no, the place is full of mostly caucasian, slightly over-weight, trainer wearing males.
In saying that everyone I’ve come across, from flight crew, immigration & security has been genuinely super friendly, which in a way just makes this whole situation sadder. Like I said, I wasn’t surprised. This nation’s been imploding for decades. Living in their la-la-land, gun-toting, god-fearing, flag-waving, hood over the eyes … of course Trump would win.
And I don’t feel a thing. Like void-er-ama. So maybe I am just as responsible in a way – totally detached, viewing it from afar with general bemusement. It’s like we’ve all slipped into some mental parallel universe.
It all seems so much more complex now I’m here. Real people vs the idea we build in our social media bubbles. I thought that flying in. Looking out the window, down on the vast, empty expanses of land which was maybe Arkansas? The odd road, little house or factory. All so remote. Such a convoluted place this is. Isolated, isolated. With all their twisted history & messed up economics. It’s no wonder.
The tumbleweed twirls by perfectly. The scene is set, the lights are on & the camera’s rolling ….
