Techno Girl Quotes

He kept expecting the techno-armored girl to move as he drew close, but she remained as lifeless as a politician's conscience.

Most girls my age don't appreciate this kind of music. In my opinion, this is real music. It's haunting, poetic, and carefully-crafted. Not that techno teeny bopper crap that only sounds good because of all the machines the record label uses to make it.

techno boy -- seventeen years old. junior. red car. works at a restaurant. it hurts when he smiles. dandruff. computers, electronic music. seeking a girl that won't eat his heart with a steak knife.

Young girls learn this hatred of themselves and play out all manner of psycho-social disorders to inflict pain on their sexed bodies. They cut their skin and starve themselves, which is seen as an aberration, a mental disease. Yet, when they graduate to selling their bodies for sex to pay college tuition and/or to stay alive, selling their eggs for profit, selling their wombs as vessels for purchased babies, to feed their families and cut off their breasts so they can identify as men, these self-inflicted wounds, under the great god of techno-capitalism, becomes progressive.

Silver confetti falls from the ceiling. The music launches again, and the sleek young mob dances feverishly, arms in the air. My head throbs along with the bass. Why had I agreed to this? I plug my ears with my fingers. I feel ridiculous beside these twenty-somethings. Marie and her friend apparently do not. They’re drinking the champagne and bopping their heads to the music. I watch a group of girls pucker for a photographer. They’re practically falling out of their tops. I hear Emily’s voice. Prude. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I tell Marie, and slide out of the booth. And I’m thinking of those catacombs, seemingly endless. I can see Emily, the version of her in that coffin. Embalming, the displacement of blood and interstitial fluids by embalming chemicals. I had looked the process up, after Mom insisted on a viewing. She was so beautiful, she cried. I want to see her one more time. The body is washed in disinfectant, limbs are massaged and manipulated, eyes glued closed, mouth and jaw secured with wires. The embalming solution contains dye to simulate a lifelike skin tone. A warm peach tone, the funeral director told us. I could barely stand it. I make my way to the second floor, where the music isn’t techno, only sultry R&B.

All Adam saw was Jill miss her punch and freeze. He kept expecting the techno-armored girl to move as he drew close, but she remained as lifeless as a politician’s conscience

PLAYLIST You can listen to the entire playlist on Youtube. “Smells like Teen Spirit” by Saint Mesa “God” by Jake Daniels (Slowed & Reverb) “Love You like Me” by William Singe (Sped up) “Haunted” by Isabel LaRosa (Slowed & Reverb) “Eyes Don’t Lie” by Isabel LaRosa (Slowed &Reverb) “I’m Her” by Natalie Jane (Slowed & Reverb) “Play with Fire” by Sam Tinnesz ft. Yacht Money (Slowed & Reverb) “Gasolina” by Cryjaxx & the Fifthguys (Slowed & Reverb) “Beast” by Mia Martina ft. Waka Flocka (Slowed &Reverb) “Maneater” by Nelly Furtado (Slowed & Reverb) “U” by Jarico (Slowed & Reverb) “Taste” by Ari Abdul (Slowed & Reverb) “One Breath around the World” by Guillaume Ferran “Nightmares” by Skyfall Beats (Slowed & Reverb) “Poem of a Killer” by WE ARE FURY (with Elijah Cruise) “Devil in Disguise” by Christopher James & Dececio Vance Westlake & Charlotte Eve Matthews “Never Satisfied” by CORPSE “Looking at the Devil” by Seibold ft. Neutopia “Buttons” The Pu$$y Cat Dolls (Slowed & Reverb) “Bad Girls” by M.I.A. (Slowed & Reverb) “Freak like Me” by Night Club (Slowed & Reverb) “Under the Influence” by (Slowed & Reverb) “Beautiful Liar” by Beyoncé & Shakira (Slowed & Reverb) “Kute” by Techno Killa (Slowed & Reverb) “GODZILLA!” by SXMPRA “Obsessed” by Zandros ft. Limi “Skins” by The Haunting “Horns” by Bryce Fox “Femme Fatale” by Amanati “Goddess” by Jaira Burns “Flashbacks” by CRASPORE “Treat Me like a Slut” by Kim Petras “Calm Down” by Krewella (Slowed & Reverb) “PIECES” by Elley Duhé “MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT” by Elley Duhé “Flare” by Hennson (Slowed & Reverb) “Huh!” by Xanakin Skywok (Slowed & Reverb) “wtf?!” – Sadfriendd x Kordhell “MURDER FUNK” by Kiraw x Ichiro “After Dark x Sweater Weather” by The Neighbourhood x Mr.Kitty (slowed to perfection)

Four or five hundred people, mostly between eighteen and twenty-five, but some as young as fifteen, were frozen in either the act of dancing or just hanging out. Because the disc jockeys at raves invariably played highly energized techno dance music with a rapidly pounding bass that could shake walls, many of the young celebrants had been Paused in bizarre poses of flailing and gyrating abandon, bodies contorted, hair flying. The men and boys were for the most part dressed in jeans or chinos with flannel shirts and baseball caps worn backward, or with preppy sportcoats over T-shirts, though some were decked out all in black. The girls and young women wore a wider variety of clothes, but every outfit was provocative-tight, short, low-cut, translucent, revealing; raves were, after all, celebrations of the carnal. The silence of graves had replaced the booming music, as well as the screams and shouts of the partiers; the eerie light combined with the stillness to impart an anti-erotic cadaverous quality to the exposed curves of calves, thighs, and breasts. As he and Connie moved through the crowd, Harry noticed the dancers' faces were stretched in grotesque expressions which probably had conveyed excitement and hopped-up gaiety when they were animated. In freeze-frame, however, they were eerily transformed into masks of rage, hatred, and agony.  In the fierce glow produced by the lasers and spots, and by the psychedelic images that film projectors beamed onto two huge walls, it was easy to imagine that this was no party, after all, but a diorama of Hell, with the damned writhing in pain and wailing for release from their excruciating torment.  By seining out the rave's noise and movement, the Pause might have captured the truth of the event in its net. Perhaps the ugly secret, beneath the flash and thunder, was that these revelers, in their obsessive search for sensation, were not truly having fun on any fundamental level, but were suffering private miseries from which they frantically sought relief that eluded them.