I embrace the now (machine love),
I threw away my device, I flittered
on second-hand device edginess
for days, cresting the waves of
fast moving fingers, so-called friends,
the inexorable disruption of the
extended now.
I threw down the gauntlet, challenging
myself to find roots and connections
within imagined, past/now Tokyo––
to create not just a novel, but a prescription:
Arisugawa Antidote For the Soul (this is the million-copy selling version of it in the alternate reality where I sell out to people who are rubbery, do not bend. The so-called masses).
EVEN fodder:
Dr. Linus pegged it over and over, through close calibration with everything he encountered, every person, every moving car, insect, small animal, or spark. He titillated himself with images of sex until he determined that a form of sexlessness was the best way forward. He outgrew movies and most visuals altogether, because for him looking at the waveform patterns of the blue light from the speaker on the wall, while listening to Miles Davis run the voodoo down fulfilled a perfect image of human destiny.
He imbibed the furthest explorations of conscious society and foretold its demise. The atmospheric composition gradations that he had predicted in his head decades ago (never published) he now saw illustrated on neuropathic interaction levels. He predicted something so profoundly unsettling (given his need, ultimately, to prove kinship with Earth lifeform communities) to make him look for a way out of the asylum. Dr. Linus was 57 years old and he had not been outside the grounds of State Hospital No. 3 since age 24, the day that Kurt Cobain died.
#endwriter
#EVEN
I threw away my device, I flittered
on second-hand device edginess
for days, cresting the waves of
fast moving fingers, so-called friends,
the inexorable disruption of the
extended now.
I threw down the gauntlet, challenging
myself to find roots and connections
within imagined, past/now Tokyo––
to create not just a novel, but a prescription:
Arisugawa Antidote For the Soul (this is the million-copy selling version of it in the alternate reality where I sell out to people who are rubbery, do not bend. The so-called masses).
EVEN fodder:
Dr. Linus pegged it over and over, through close calibration with everything he encountered, every person, every moving car, insect, small animal, or spark. He titillated himself with images of sex until he determined that a form of sexlessness was the best way forward. He outgrew movies and most visuals altogether, because for him looking at the waveform patterns of the blue light from the speaker on the wall, while listening to Miles Davis run the voodoo down fulfilled a perfect image of human destiny.
He imbibed the furthest explorations of conscious society and foretold its demise. The atmospheric composition gradations that he had predicted in his head decades ago (never published) he now saw illustrated on neuropathic interaction levels. He predicted something so profoundly unsettling (given his need, ultimately, to prove kinship with Earth lifeform communities) to make him look for a way out of the asylum. Dr. Linus was 57 years old and he had not been outside the grounds of State Hospital No. 3 since age 24, the day that Kurt Cobain died.
#endwriter
#EVEN
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