As I write this I’m an hour out of Vienna in Semmering, experimenting with an Austrian holiday. I’m looking out of the window at a ski slope that’s been carved into the side of a mountain and covered in machine made snow. The apartment we rented is on top of a cabin style restaurant at the edge of a parking lot. Its walls are thin enough to hear people eat and the vibrations from every door that's shut in the hallway. A PA system is thumping with a steady four to the floor. Some dudes are yelling in German into any leftover frequencies about skiing, the joy of tasting food, and travel. The songs mostly mirror them along with some sex-positive anthems. It’s been a while since I’ve listened to optimistic music for an extended duration. From where I’m sitting in this room, all of the sound’s high end has been cut off. All chest register, no head.-------------------------------------The t-bar that drags skiers up the hill is on a loop that fits with the circular shape of the drum patterns and chants. It looks like its speed is synced to the BPM of the song to create a holistic experience. At some point the t-bar stops but the music continues to cover the landscape. I go outside on the balcony to inspect and watch my partner and son argue with their hands about technique. The sun finally comes out, and the scene starts to glue together. The high end of voices poke through the sound of skis cutting snow. Sonic rays of light. The phrase ‘it’s a daydream’ repeats until it vanishes on the horizon and a saxophone line appears alongside a group of clouds.---------I decide this is the time to be ambitious enough to venture outside for a walk.  When I try to leave I realize I'm locked in. An entrance door in the hallway has a wood carving that says Peter Rosegger that’s flanked by a pair of sunglasses, also carved out of wood. I think about calling out his name for help but instead lay down and take a nap.
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--Text performed by Manès Weiner-Slanar and interpreted by an Adobe speech recognition algorithm, cameo by Claudia Slanar