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3 ratings since posting on Friday, April 1, 2005
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DrBa...
DrBakxus-
offline 6
*****
Great rant, creative, humourous, gastric.
uh.. you want more? - DrBakxus- , posted 11/15/05
*****
What a crappy tribe; gave me indigestion; keeps changing its name
Buy now, save big $$$, work from comfort of your own home!

International Day of the Altz bigbig opportunity knockings!

MAM32.tribe.net

CHAPTER ONE

Once upon a time there was a boy who wanted: everything, all at once, right now, and forever.
CHAPTER TWO

Maps and mapmakers weaving in and out of narrative, a tapestry with faded pieces overlooked by the engineers, vertical hold or something, neglected, relegated, a rhythm jump introducing of transfering.

And so I repeat repetition, so many things time and again response so invalid or void voidance occurring, clockwork return vector of precision maintainance restraining, oiled, all washed-up.

So, because I am an artist, or at least in spite of it, all apprearances aside, the spectacle is being (has been?) eclipsed (the manuscript is faded here).

How can I possible know what I am meaning, or whatever it is that reads these things, interprets, a purchase point or departure anyway.

Somehow there is a third-person article missing, somewhere, holes again? Insects? So where is the foundation, the ground?

Ring around the maypole, pocket full of--what? vector diagrams? geodesic survey maps? What year is it?
CHAPTER THREE

Too late for a message, the second wave turns back.
CHAPTER FOUR

The wheels and possibilities, the fractional breakdowns, the never-ending apocalypse of the heart revivified, the unifying test-pattern displayed.

The TV-screen flares to a static grey, the speaker lets out a dull roar: the power has been cut. A Comanchee, possibly a Sioux or even a Crow, has downed the high-tension lines. Sparks shoot up.

Transience, line-spikes, ghosts in the fiber-optic net, artifacts of an information age.

My telephone appears a bit jaundiced, its dial-tone fainter. I have been reaching more wrong numbers than usual.
CHAPTER FIVE

Honestly, I'm not trying to communicate anything.
CHAPTER SIX

Just to make sure our sample is representative, I'd like to ask you a few more questions.

Infinite hold, lost in the wires, Frank called.

It was some sort of clear, yellowish fluid.

Toll-free and 1-800 dial, overtones, a switching signal disconnect, buzzing somewhere, a generator perhaps drowns out my voice.
CHAPTER SEVEN

The reason for the location of the magnetic poles remainsa mystery, and the earth's magnetic field, historians of paleomagnetism tell us, has reversed its polarity many times in the geological past.
CHAPTER EIGHT

After a very lively evening we retired about 11 o'clock in the garden where Professor Curie brought out a tube coated in part with zinc sulfide and containing a large quantity of radium in solution. The luminosity was brilliant in the darkness and it was a splendid finale to an unforgettable day.

epilogue

its not me who writes these things its an old man his name is Jones and he lives out back in the woods where he cooks things up in an old shack.

he throws computers telephones CD-ROMs fax machines pocket-pagers and garage-door openers into the pot, boiling down the components to a high-tech gumbo, an electronic head-cheese.

sweat breaks out on his upper lip.

the television is the last to go, its speaker shrieking out tinny squeals and pleas.

MAM32.tribe.net
MAM32.tribe.net
MAM32.tribe.net
MAM32.tribe.net - , posted 04/05/05

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