|the age of aquariums. we're all trapped in glass. can you see me. HAVE YOU SEEN ME?
||[Feb. 10th, 2004|12:44 am]
|||||crown me king- "cape of no hope cape of brimstone"||]|
i guess subway commutes mean i read some. i guess lethem named that archbuilder "lonely dumptruck" & if he had ran with that clever convention he coulda stole the mink stole. nick hornby knows about boys & amanda fillapachi knows about pedophillia. harlan ellison knows about trouble & boondocks well they is. i finally read that english as a second f*cking language booklet, & i browse on through all kinds of other sheaves, the paper like curtains shrouding me. who is that masked villian with his nose in a book? fuad mohandus maybe? maybe its absolom grundy, son of soloman grundy & maybe he owns the secret of the corn fields. because damn, corn fields do have secrets. all those lonely mazes.
let me see the hollow of the clavicle.
the barren humours of your bioalchemy.
divided by peristalsis, you dwell in silence,
organless, without heart or liver or kidney,
a thing of mantle & hyaline,
psuedocorporeal, with a 20% miss chance (10% with magic weapons).
choke on my dnd poem you old fucking fossil. literature is for those enslaved to oral tradition. to punctuation insisting on rhythem. to those without cryptography in their blood. this is the millenium that things change, that the hammer & tongs of science (the restriction enzymes, the tampering virus) change what it means to linger in meat. & i'm already one step ahead of the game.