Robert Stark Talks to Brandon Adamson About Skytrain to Nowhere

Interview is available here

– The book is made up of poems resulting from the author’s experiences riding the skytrain at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport

– How the book was loosely inspired by Keith Gunderson’s A Continual Interest in the Sun and Sea

– Brandon’s style and method of writing poetry

– How there is very little offensive material in the book compared to previous works

– The photographs in the book

– How the skytrain doesn’t really go anywhere but an imaginative person will envision potential destinations and explore the possible ways in which this kind of technology could be used

– The skytrain as a vehicle for escapism

– The airport as the blueprint for self contained cities

– Disneyland as also a model for self contained cities

– How the author’s fascination with skytrains and monorails originated with trips to Disneyland and Disney World in the 1980’s

– The importance of always staying on the move in life and never getting too comfortable

– The Retro-Futuristic themes in the book

– The Retro-Futurist’s dilemma of wanting to embrace the future while being inspired by nostalgia and having to determine what’s worth holding on to

– The poem Treadmill to Neonopolis named after the place in Las Vegas

– Mythological references in the book (Atlantis, Icarus, etc)

Purchase Skytrain to Nowhere on Amazon

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Skytrain to Nowhere

Available in Paperback here

and eBook (pdf) here

Skytrain to Nowhere is an imagination driven and esoteric volume of free-form poetry. The book documents the author’s experiences, thoughts and observations while riding the skytrain at Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport over the period of several weeks. Since the skytrain is only designed to transport travelers between various terminals and parking facilities at the airport, someone spending nearly 50 hours riding it purely for recreation and artistic inspirational purposes is highly unusual (to put it mildly.) Aside from occasional quirky anecdotes about various passengers, the poems mostly deal with themes of motion, the passage of time, and nostalgia. The author grapples with these issues from a retro-futurist perspective. Skytrain to Nowhere celebrates the realization that our vitality hinges on our ability to always keep moving, while recognizing we are unwilling or unable to leave some things behind on the journey.

Purchase Skytrain to Nowhere on Amazon.

Compare and Contrast

New EP out, Compare and Contrast. Well actually, it’s been out for a little while. It’s a folkish EP / mini album of organ-based, minimalist pop songs, featuring unassuming vocals and a retro, lo-fi sound. It is reminiscent of 90’s and early 00’s indie pop. One critic described the EP as containing “songs that sound like they belong in a Hammer film.” It’s available for purchase almost anywhere for only a few bucks.

Available on iTunes:
Brandon Adamson – Compare and Contrast

Bandcamp: Here

The Card in the Coin Return

The Card in the Coin Return

Hey silly rabbit in
the bottomless top hat.
Caught in the rat race?

Do you ever feel like a
pasty pale mouse trapped
dead center square
tic-tac-dough
in a cat’s game
stalemate?

just mod-mod-modular cube maze bait
right smack-dab in
the middle of your cell pad
wanna run, make tracks, have a look around the place for
random artifacts but
color coded cops on your case
one door away like
Lock ‘n’ Chase
an unsolved Rubik’s snake
what a puzzlecade
levels, lives, points…but
no little brass key to jimmy open the briefcase
no solution in plain sight
no clear escape
no veering from the paperwork trail surveilled on
Memorex VHS tape
Don’t cry
Just try love, try hate, try again
when they rewind
push play
another coffee break
meditate
dreamlike stateless
curious expression
unibrow bridge across an
energy depleted face
evolves to form
the watchful cyclops’ eye
with laserlike focus
to materialize
the holographic breadcrumbs that
trace a corridor
squeeze through

neon
    exit
        sign

dividing line
flip side
open space!

Brandon Adamson is the author of Beatnik Fascism

An Aversion to Quagmires – A Collective Desertion Toward Our Future

When I wrote Beatnik Fascism a year or so ago, I never anticipated that we would be organizing and participating in actual anti-war demonstrations, but here we are. The book was mostly a quirky attempt to reconcile my own peculiar affinity for 1950’s and 60’s beat culture (and the associated Hollywood caricatures of it) with seemingly paradoxical tendencies toward identitarianism and futurism. I chose to convey these thoughts meditatively through the medium of poetry rather than as academic essays or “manifestos,” because I wanted the book to be abstract and avant-garde, as opposed to yet another one of those McReactionary ebooks railing about “feminists and SJWs” that Alt-Bro hucksters are always marketing. Like most people, I cringe when Paul Joseph Watson or some right wing media figure declares “conservatives are the new punk rock!” or whatever. So, though there are similarities I did not really want to write a book that was like “neo-fascists are the new beatniks.” To do so would be to overstate the activist component of the beat generation, which was in fact minimal compared to what often amounted to vaguely philosophical travelogues, artistic memoirs documenting a lifestyle of exploration, experimentation, heightened consciousness and curiosity. The idea for “Beatnik Fascism” for me began as kind of an inside joke and only accidentally became more genuine as I began to get caught up in the fevered frenzy of late night writing (much like I am now.)

The more idiosyncratic identitarians like myself lead extremely detached lives. Most of us seek a kind of escape from what passes for everyday life for most people. We travel around to meet up with each other, often exploring the world but seeing the sights through our own radically tainted viewfinders. When Robert Stark and I met up and wandered the streets of Las Vegas, admiring broken old signs and seeing majestic beauty in what normies would write off as the dumpiest, tackiest casinos….we traversed the town not strictly as tourists to Vegas from our respective cities, but as visitors from another time and place. We might as well have been from the moon, or maybe even another dimension entirely. When some lonesome, off-color traveler hikes around no man’s land in the mountains of some third world country, vlogging about transhumanism and HBD after being inspired by the sight of some weird looking leaf, it is in this sense that you might understand how so called crypto-fascist, degenerate bards could find themselves identifying with zany yet brutally authentic characters in works like “On The Road” and even the exploitative Hollywood bastardizations of them.

There is also the irresponsibility, or to put it more accurately…the realization that what is advertised as “living responsibly” is often a scam to manipulate us away from that which we sense a greater responsibly towards. To be “responsible” both in post World War 2 America and transnational, post cold war America requires going along with a whole bunch of bullshit and living a lifestyle that for some, isn’t true to one’s self. John Updike once claimed in an interview with Penguin Classics that he wrote “Rabbit, Run” in response to Jack Kerouac’s “On The Road.” Updike said:

Jack Kerouac’s “On the Road” came out in 1957 and, without reading it, I resented its apparent instruction to cut loose; “Rabbit,Run” was meant to be a realistic demonstration of what happens when a young American family man goes on the road – the people left behind get hurt.

Yet, despite Updike’s intentions, while reading Rabbit,Run as a young man, I identified much more with the character of Rabbit. Sure, the people he leaves behind do get hurt, but it didn’t appear to me to be any huge loss for the world. After all, his wife was an alcoholic that made him miserable, and his girlfriend was a prostitute, not exactly the type of people you’d feel like he owes some huge commitment to. There are his young children of course (one of which dies as a result of a careless accident committed by the drunken wife.) Yet, Rabbit would have been unable to prevent this even if he hadn’t ran out. It would have probably happened anyway while he was busy at work one day, in his totally meaningless sales job that Updike implies should have been his duty to remain at. Rabbit meanwhile points out the hypocrisy in all the people who attempt to tell him how to live. “Everybody who tells you how to act has whiskey on their breath.” This is the problem with Updike’s world. He frowns upon the runners, reformers and rockers of the boat for what he perceives as the messes left behind and the plight of the abandoned, the weakening of the church…etc yet beneath the forced facade of cohesion which he insists is imperative that we maintain at all costs, those who look closely still see an outline of the same puddle of puke, obscured only by having been swept partially under the rug.

“Staying at your shitty job where you spend the last years of your youth selling meaningless gadgets that people don’t need, and staying with your wife that drinks all day and yells at you constantly are necessary to keep up the appearance of a healthy, functioning society. It’s all in your interests. Just stay put.” Well, no it isn’t, and no I won’t. One can sense when they’re living a life that isn’t in their best interests (though some lack the will or inclination to act on it.)

“Check your privilege, keep your head down and train the overseas replacement we’ve brought in to take over your job at half of what we’re paying you. You might feel boxed in, but it’s in your best interests to import people from ethnic groups that express hostility toward you and openly boast about how disenfranchised you will be once they’re fully in charge. It might cramp your style, but just sit tight.
” Well gee dad, that transnational capitalist diversitopia sounds swell, but I gotta run…I’m off to find an abandoned mall to convert into a retro-futuristic identitarian living space where we conduct wild scientific experiments on ourselves, learning, loving and disinclining in peace.

Brandon Adamson is the author of Beatnik Fascism

Tumblerine Dreams

I need to start a family with you. This will just take a minute, okay?
     Well that depends if your “Make America Great Again” hat is ironic or not.
I actually only got this hat because there was no Richard Spencer apparel available at the time…
     Oh now I’m pissed.
Well I’m sure it’s nothing that Saturday morning cartoons can’t cure.
     I mean “Alt Right” is pretty heavy if that’s what you are.
Like, it might take something more than cartoons.

I don’t know about that. Poddington Peas was a magnificent and powerful cartoon.
     You’re dating yourself a little bit with that one my darling.
So what? The intro song is great.
Most newer cartoons are pretty lame anyway, unwatchable
     Okay, I just listened to it and I’m moderately impressed. I don’t watch a
lot of cartoons.

Me neither. I mostly just watch the intros and sing along with the catchy tunes. As far as dating myself, your name’s Haley, sort of like the comet. I remember when it last appeared in 1986…
     I’m wondering, where is your Instagram, and where are our mutual friends?
Mine is set to private. We have no mutual friends.
     Either you’re fake, or you’re going to kill me.
I’m really not a killer. There has to be a third option.
     The third option is that you’re some weirdo Alt Right dude
So I mean..

Well, that’s getting slightly closer to the truth
     I’m soooo mad
Are you or are you not a republican?
Well I’m not a “republican,” no
     Oh my God
What does it matter? Seems clear to me we get along well enough. We could be holding hands at the zoo right now, and nobody would ever know the difference.
     I wish. I absolutely love the zoo.
I don’t know if I want to date a guy who might or might not be Alt Right,
since I’m part Hispanic.

Hispanic is a bogus category. You don’t really even have mestizo features, so you’re probably mostly Spanish or Portuguese. You look huWhite to me. I’m not getting the vibe of an Aztec warrior princess ready to yank the beating heart from my chest on a sacrificial altar and offer it up to ye gods. I could be wrong though.
     What if you are wrong?
I’ll be a heartless bastard.

Brandon Adamson is the author of Beatnik Fascism