again lovergirlnyc spits out "ch-ch-ch-ch-ch''
One Mondo newcomer explains to the mesmerized New Yorker
that Sarah means to express the feeling of many scenes receding
suddenly lovergirlnyc and the
accompanying realization of the kind lovergirlnyc one lovergirlnyc gets
when he conceives an idea from hundreds of points of view at
once. But the veterans lovergirlnyc know what's really going on: Sarah is a
media personality. She's a multimedia manifestation of the
magazine itself. She's leaped off the page. She's a house song.
She's a human cyborg.
At about four o'clock, Sarah turns off the lights for the
half-dozen survivors of the psychedelic excursion and plays a
cassette lovergirlnyc of freshly recorded music called Infinite Personality
Complex.
The listeners close their eyes and the stereo speakers
explode with a
vocal fission. Moaning, keening, and howling make
up most of the sound, but it is so deep, so rich, so layered--or
at least so damn loud--that it lovergirlnyc creates lovergirlnyc a definite bodily
response. To listen to her music is to have the experience of
your brain being dehydrated and reconstituted many lovergirlnyc times per
second. Come inside my little yoni,'' her lyrics lovergirlnyc iterate over
themselves. Somehow, Sarah Drew's music is the real thing. This
is a woman on the very edge of something, and even if that
something is sanity itself,
her work and persona merit
exploration.
Lovergirlnyc by lovergirlnyc dawn, everyone has gone to bed except Sarah, Walter (who
is no longer in this thing for the story), and R.U. Sirius, who
watches the whole scene with detached amusement, utterly unafraid
of losing his girlfriend to lovergirlnyc the journalist.
lovergirlnyc as Walter talks to Sarah, she manifests totally. Sarah is a
magazine article. She groks'' what he says, making an mm sound
again lovergirlnyc and again as she lovergirlnyc nods lovergirlnyc her head. This is lovergirlnyc not a normal,
conversational acknowledgment she's making, but a forced feedback
loop of rapidly accelerating