Horse eats oats eat sun

by Chris Lott

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about

Waiting outside an all-you-can-eat buffet for my cousin to finish his multiple-plate meal--ice cream, ribs, potatoes, Kool aid, biscuit, ham and ranch salad, one crab leg (I won't go inside)--I wrote important information that I subsequently can't remember on his cast on his arm he broke playing beach volleyball with cub scouts, lyrics I think it was for a re-write of an album I was commissioned to make for the powers that be, specifically the powers that be the Department of Agriculture, who wanted a hip youth culture work that encouraged the consumption of limitless, useless products of the agricultural variety, without any of the proper contexts that youths require. All I had was the gift of philosophy and critical faculty against these powers and their untrue facts. But perhaps every co-opted work still communicates itself, its decency or what it could have been (or what not to be) to those who pay due attention, so I did deep research. I played basketball, had my shot blocked over and over, in slow motion. I was kicked out of a farmer's market, normally notorious for their kindness which I found out rests on a knife's edge. I experimented with irresponsible capitalism. I went to a middle school dance. The end result was a ska album, the name of "Rad Krops". They didn't like it. First they lightly encouraged bringing in some other artists to help out- vanilla ice, Eminem, 7-up. Then they threatened. My kid sister was jumping rope on her smart tablet. They cut it in two. They slapped an additional bike chain on my bike, making me late for having a baseball catch with my son. They capitalized on the economic strain they were putting on us and paid my mother to heckle my stand-up. I tried to save the family by raising funds via kickstarter, taking dares/bets to ride North America's Least Regulated Roller Coaster (a venture I lost capital on). All life communicates lessons to the listener, and I have listened over and over, and will continue for the foreseeable future, to pour over rad Krops as I would some deep text, me who is the only person who can listen to it, under law, and find in it the limits of what I can do and the expanse of what I'm capable of, when I combine words in playful experiment, and makes sounds/noises when I tire of text.

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released February 9, 2016

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Chris Lott Athens, Georgia

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