an expose from the slice-and-dice chop-suey school of creative writing, serving all your writing needs since 1970
FRACTAL PERSONAS & TRANSLUCENT GENDERS
free-form abstract & extended thinking mode, loosely associative & inter-connected, web, net, a “model” of a 12-dimensional cube, thinking machine (deus ex machina) supports all standards including emulation is for information only and subject to change without notice.
hold the paper up to the light now. some rays pass right through.
FADED DECISION OUTLINED IN A PASTEL GREEN
sort of a lime green, more of a neon green, with an AC/DC hum, a wispy corona and a halo of dead flies.
smoothly formed and longitudinal, lateral, complexly linear with surface convulsions for processing depth (the wizard clasps a rounded stone to his forehead and rolls on the ground, his face contorting).
1950s COCKTAIL NAPKINS
shakennotstirred, a taste of burnt toast and the smell of runover skunk. the grass is always greener on the other side of the septic tank, little doodads to put on the mantlepiece, a Why I Need a Valium Prescription in 50 words or less (complex hydrocarbons).
DIGITAL POP-TOP TAPE-LOOP (simulated simulacrum)
the digital pop-top tape loop (a virtual harbinger [and vice versa] of noise) has had its pins bent, sockets warped, chips fried, its silicon abraded. there is a significant amount of signal degradation. yet the overall effect is not unpleasant.
mystic, alchemistic chemical cauldron, plugged-in to the outlet & gathering data (satellite messages beam down).
SITTING IN THE SUN, WAITING FOR THE MILLENNIUM
some rays pass right through.
FLASHING IN THE BACKGROUND, ILLUMINATING
when this book is a movie reused & standing before you, sign symbol glyphs, something half-felt he don’t understand, arrows point to the exits, stairway gone, third file cabinet on the left. so, it come back again, halfway glimpsing broken glass sound/ground on the floor somebody was screaming, singing (tunelessly, but notice the vagueness) tonelessly, without words, sonic, hum, amplifier static. wordless, rhythms, alternate syllables incarnated yet somehow silly simple paths, yet and lacking, feedback past, looking for amplifier & exhilarated (pop, hum crackle), automatic send-back ladder, runs in my stocking, downstairs.
I, LIKE ALL THE REST, & ATROPHY.
annotated as the day is round when the sun is going down like the sky is black and cloudless.
soon I shall be joined with my beginning.
time has ceased.
TOO MUCH INFORMATION
According to a Seattle Times feature in March, Robert Shields, 77, of Dayton, WA, is the author of perhaps the longest personal diary in history—nearly 38 million words on paper stored in 81 cardboard boxes—covering his last 24 years in five-minute increments. Example: July 25, 1993, 7 a.m.: “I cleaned out the tub and scraped my feet with my fingernails to remove layers of dead skin.”
PLAN FOR GROWING OLD GRACEFULLY
when i grow old i shall make hand-puppets from my false teeth, chase young people down in the street and bite them on their derrieres decrying the lack of social security and public morals.
VIDEO DEJA VU
I am enclosed, bracketed, tightly positioned and the target of narrow-cast advertising. I cannot sing, chant, cry, or become enraged. my e-mail-box is full.
my office window looks out on another mirrored building.
ROUTINE, LIKE HIS SOCKS
he sat in front of the TV most of day now, no longer caring what blobs came and went; they did so every day. empty potato chip bags littered the room, he saw. I used to hate potato chips, he thought. the sudden exertion made him sweat and he watched the tv for several minutes until he eyes unfocused. then, I still do. action: he brought another to his lips. maybe this one will be different. no. maybe this one. no.
WHAT IS IT?
it’s a please hold and modify, a squeeze me and liquefy, a loosely enigma, an overturned hypothesis, a 99 and 44/100ths percent pure, a love letter written in braille, a hair of the dog that bit you
They did discover the bones the diver had reported. However, they were not of human origin. Police said they appeared to be from some barbecued ribs.
Vermiform Appendix: THE MEDIUM IS THE MASSAGE
Primitive and pre-alphabet people integrate time and space as one and live in an acoustic, horizonless, boundless, olfactory space, rather than in visual space. Their graphic presentation is like an x-ray. They put in everything they know, rather than what they see. A drawing of a man hunting seal on an ice floe will show not only what is on top of the ice, but what lies underneath as well. The primitive artist twists and tilts the various possible visual aspects until they fully explain what he wishes to represent. —Marshall McLuhan
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