For a fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
It wears her out
She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins
And it wears him out
It wears him out
It wears him out
Wears him out
She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And it wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
It wears me out
And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time
All the time
5 comments:
I am privileged to own a house filled with precious antiques, high quality reproductions and frankly fabulous fakes including a large, magnificent-looking gilt-framed Rococo Chippendale-style mirror made entirely of pressed plastic. It was molded from an original worth thousands of dollars. I found that mirror at an Auto-Supply Shop almost forty years ago, and remember paying $28.00 for it. It's displayed prominently above a period bow front Chippendale chest of drawers –– a natural focal point for the entire room.
It amuses me no end that more-often-han-not guests stop to Ooh and Aah over the mirror while completely overlooking the fine chest beneath it.
On my patio I have lots of living plants, which require a good deal of tending, but placed discreetly among them are any number of plastic and fabric fakes that help give the impression of a first-class botanic garden. Again, no guest seems ever to have noticed the deception.
On my oval teakwood dining table sits an very attractive arrangement of multicolored gourds each one made of styrofoam. I found them more than ten years ago at The Dollar Tree, and promptly bought twenty of them for a buck a piece. The arrangement blends so well with the décor I've let it sit there all these years, and can't imagine what could look better.
I do draw the line, however, at manufactured, lifelike "bedmates," and feel a sense of creeping horror at the thought of ever trying to use the services of or do business with a ROBOT no matter how friendly, warm and lifelike he or she may appear. ;-)
Why not? As Lacan has stated, there is no sexual relationship... or something like that. ;)
Not ever have found anything the least bit appealing from the little I know of Lacan I'm not sure I follow your meaning there, FJ, but as far as I'm concerned trying to establish a presumably satisfying sexual relationship with a MACHINE would be tantamount to INGESTING artistic-looking plastic, wax, or ceramic replicas of FOOD.
(:-x
What he was attempting to get at was that a "human" sexual relationship must be sustained by "fantasy". It is something that cannot be "enjoyed" w/o the fantasy. And since the underlying mental activity is "fake"... why should it be wrong if the actual sexual experience/partner were also fake? ;)
NUTZ!
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