JG Ballard was right. Fucking cars is a total turn-on. Believe me, once you’ve had Pontiac you don’t go back. In my techno-dreams, I imagine myself copulating with many of the other beautiful things I own, in a sort of cyborg, human/machine love-interface basis, a bit like early Numan. In fact, this is how I would like to make love to a series of my favourite technological appliances.
This is like the opposite of a self-esteem problem. He has too much esteem. He looks in the mirror and, instead of seeing a linebacker who lost a bet, he sees a sexy 14-year-old Colombian chick with a healthy dose of sassitude stuffed into her tiny frame.
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How mad would you be if you went to these guys’ house and it wasn’t some crazy squatted warehouse space with a bunch of old art installations and an old acid-fried hippie crashed out on the couch? Hmmm, maybe that’s how he got his arms ripped off.
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