An old gate with the paint peeling off and the legend dead inside, with a slit where something’s clawing its way out. Out into a world where no one’s still alive. People ransacked the planet. Heaps of trash that you can gorge on till you bust, baby. They cut the wings off food, the “eroticism of old age”, they turned its body into sculptures and displayed them in a gallery of our downfall. You can’t have what you can’t find. You can’t use what they didn’t throw out. You’ll live, but not for long. There’s a drought, everywhere is on fire and you’re going to try to fix it. You’re naive, but determined… but when you close your eyes there are colours everywhere and music playing.
A skip that’s free to collect, a toboggan in Petynka, 40 degrees in the shade, Břevnov – Letná – Old Town Square, perfect anti-motion, Shakira, toxic raindrops, Anton vs U skřetů, a stack of bio yoghurts for 80 crowns each, mushrooms, Racio trauma, OK, all right, Vertumnus.
You spend your whole life waiting for something – anything! – to happen. And nothing does, and in the end you’re fucked.
Adrian Altman is driven by the idiocy of those who don’t get beauty, those who are into selfishness and making money. He’ll take them on again in the newly revived Club, and he won’t take shit from anyone.
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