LACK “Perhorresces” (More Records)

The air is filtered; it is crisp. Welcome to the wine room. We can call it that, at least, when referring to its temperature, its climate control. In it is a Chihuly installation of a cassette, a sculpture of fine china, crystal and glass. Have you ever seen the grey spinning plate trick quiver, right before the earthquake, on the variety show, where every piece of hardware makes the same mating call, like amnesiac mockingbirds, on a grey stage?

The acts before this one did grey spinning plate tricks as well. However, this one moans. Curious and aroused, we put our ear to the wall, closer to the fuck. We put our eye to the keyhole, and see blurry figures behind the netting, behind icicles of fine china, crystal and glass. Another moan; the grotto's echo--a reflection of the tings. A hotbed, soft enough to cushion the fall, hot enough to smelt. A blue crystal fryer.

A lamb sings to the Moon. If we turn away from the keyhole, and look through the window, we will see the Moon, with slivers of eternity and black cut out around it. We will bounce around, off the fine china, crystal and glass, and fall back onto the blue bed, our own moan captured in the grotto, for the next Tom to seek.

-- Rick Weaver