Passagerarsäte: with a steering wheel on the table and gas pedals as foot rests, the ride through Splash Realistique isn’t as mud-flapped as the drapery memories of when rock & roll died out in your life, on the way down to Texas about eight years ago — feet curled into the floor mats — recliners with racecar seat-covers, watching a speedometer accelerate as if the movie Turbo were IRL and that snail moved at a logical pace.
Vänderkvarn: wind energy powering this room like a turbine tunnel, as walls oscillate and gust hair follicles, and speech is deep and choppy, with thoughts of never getting to sleep because there’s a fan directly pointed on your neck, so the stiffer it gets, the more you remain awake, on your pillow, in a breezy fantasy of anti-REM hallucination, but nobody is talking to you: ignore the voices.
Universos: various galaxies printed on 12-inch Xerox pages in smeared black and white are pasted on everything, including the sofa bed, coffee table, television, radio, blinders, mirror, clothes, skin, eyes, dreams, beyond on the inside.
Selva: not like trophies, but effigies of various jungle animals graze, prey, flock, nest, and scavenge throughout, like a couch that’s a polar bear on its back, a flamingo television stand that is framed by monkeys, peacock curtains, fish floating in the mirror, grass as carpet and philodendron as shade from a lightning bug terrarium.
Corbata: wallpaper like neckties flapping in the wind with the drapery that’s also double-Winsor’d along the frames; everything practically silk in the Splash Realistique, while nothing but smooth rustling and gentle caressing soundtracking the room in the purest majesty of comfort.
Acuatico: side tables like waterfalls upon the Golden Living Room floor, and four tube slides that race humans in a whirl around the floor and ceiling — the floor an inch of warm water constantly trickling in and flittering; the ceiling a constant drizzle of water perfectly monitored to easy each body under it — a lazy river that encircles the area with reclining, floating chairs, as the dripping, 360-degree television projects to all eyes gazing, including the slides.
Primera Clase: captain Joel at the ready with a soundtrack that makes business class an afterthought on the way to the airport, overhead speakers gliding like a safety manual that may be overly explanatory, but probably just right for insurance purposes, though sometimes one may think, “All these sounds are wonderful — maybe too much max than min at times, taking away from the pleasant flight of first class — and I think I’ll have a drink. Oh, flight attendant,” and there are flight attendants within this suit.
Palacio de Cristal: no curtains aloud and all the sunset hitting crystal walls in a prism of color surrounding the atmosphere like a pleasant hum one hears a harmony within, chaliced like the finest tuning fork in stunning symphony among tables, coat racks, shelves, and cabinets all empty and sparkling.
Calcetín: Colin’s socks stretch the room and the room’s furniture, and in a way are stinky, though not as if Splash Realistique walks within them, more so sliding across the floor of the room and finding the nooks that catch little fabrics of the socks, pulling at their tethers.
Comercial Japonés: Lined with escalators going up and down and away from this room, language is abundant and feverous, with smiles that pass as the recliner takes one back into the fret of hustle these people mingle throughout and find exits through doors and windows that appear only to disappear, but reappear in the mix of matter.
Internet Correos: Of course Splash Realistique is more fleshed out than Post Internet — although, Post Internet began so well, it was practically contending for top 10 of this decade, but unfortunately loses steam a little after the midway point, so remixes (????) — however, Splash Realistique dials into a reality that remains consistent (albeit confined) to a secure structure and an invested vibe that crackles a little less.
Baja del Bote: Everything winning in a $2 jackpot as card dealers and craps workers stare and await your bet, only to level up enough just feeling like breaking even is the only measurable way to relax here, so the gamble is worth the click away from paradise in the casino suite of Splash Realistique
Solpaneler: There’s no clarity in this room but pure white light, raying flickers of pure color unidentified by humans, reflecting off all the panels that line the walls, covered in emergency blanket material; nearly everything is a mirror, but the reflections are only powered by cyclical Splash Realistique.