7/26/11

7/26/11

Trombone land: While the trombones rest, elk graze on small grassy hills. Flowers sprout and fog enshrouds.

the chef was cremated and his body transported to ten distinctly different areas. his mind melted and its particles evaporated into twenty quintillion colonies of carefully arranged slots and patterns. he had been the best chef the world had ever seen, and now he is the best ineffable conglomerate the world will ever not see. done.

ch-ching. it's the next time, and this time it will be more progressive than ever before let's move quick no time for anything to happen we've got things going forward and forward and huge fast objects and lights flying at light speed the way lights go and go and go and never stop keep it coming folks, the guns and rays and fast hatch opens to reveal hatch opens to reveal hatch opens to reveal speedy special delivery right to your door so you can open and use and put into action move on turn into something and die--ch-ching--alright, not to take anything away from your current perception of these kinds of things, but let's remove all of the spots in between some of the pieces of this thing so that we can have a more pared-down stripped-clean death-ground representation of the pure original object--ch-ching--open the box and dive deep into it, find a new thing and bring it out into the world and out out into another, bits taken from various stacked levels and redistributed according to nothing at all, but to reach the next possible world we have to undo all we have done but struggle to convey our thoughts concisely and flawlessly, for example, the name you've given yourself is not the name we have ready for you tomorrow, i understand this probably isn't your way of thinking, but we have to get somewhere before we can get elsewhere.

before i pick a direction i create a diversion in order to avoid future understandings of correct grasps beneath our current sturdy surfaces, remaining blissful and transcendent, plummeting into a dimmer tundra without anything to hold you up, weak wings disintegrate and reintegrate into endless curved gridscapes.