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>Date: Wed, 4 Feb 1998 12:44:53 -0700 (MST) >X-Sender: amerika@location.removed.by.the.editor >Mime-Version: 1.0 >Subject: the village idiot responds > >Tim, > >Attached is a "critifiction" that you're more than welcome to use as a >response to the faux-emails. It will require some openminded >design-strategy as the open composition and loose punctuation-style are >intentional as are all of the bolds & italics. > >BTW, I really liked your own response, FAST, CHEAP & OUT OF CONTROL. It >really nailed it on the head. > >Best, > >Mark Village Idiot: Identity In Motion Alkaloid Boy meets The End Is Nearing and reevaluates his current position. Flinging out long scroll he goes over the balance sheet mesmerized in its condition. Movement ratio untouched unencumbered transient feedback loop outside the vicious circle no hawks to ward off no chastity belt to slow him down. Meanwhile the growing Big Death hid away inside The Death Terminal's central location computer virus spreading facts sheet distorted "just when you thought you had your program under control you find out that it has a mind of its own." Somewhere in the neutral column lay Blue Sky. She's more than the indian selfadhesive facility that keeps your body broken in and mind mattered. She's the loose canon free whistle love hassle-free blowjob nuke warm tomb mama womb mama. It all spreads out everlasting hope peace love care. You can see it in her face. The way she does her hair. Ancient rock star from other planetary consciousness in a time still not known to Man. Alkaloid Boy growing into the rough discursive passages of The Black Death and its Terminal Blues perception. No gloom and doom here boys. Just blatant disregard for mutual laughter easygoing pyrotechnics love's alabaster wings serenade symposium. None of it. The upper of the Upper feigning heroics getting rich. The lower of the Upper poorly performing cheap imitations of their hierarchical master geniuses. Then the vast middle of Everybody losing it slowly wondering how in the hell slave labor technology turned into the heavy burden. Many clothes draping the monster new technology. Many fashions dining the plates of the masters. Many new plates of pictures shining on the dead reel of the Platonic masters. The genius overload fortified to kill. Blue Sky looking into the Big Sky seeing The Black Death hovering spiritually resounding throughout the heavens Her motor desiring The End Is Nearing while Alkaloid Boy tries to make a comeback. Music videos show the old man balding. His voice whispers soundtrack backlash: "alkaloid boy / he's very nervous / alkaloid boy / you can see it in his delivery . . ." |
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Alkaloid Boy and Blue Sky meet up with another couple who go by the names Hair Monster and Rose Hips. Hair Monster looks kind of like the protagonist in the film ERASERHEAD although his persona and presence remind you more of Sergy Eisenstein. His light eyes shine in the dark and you'll often feel the weight of his prolonged silences as they surround and eventually control the action being generated in the scene you share with him. Rose Hips is a She-Ra love goddess who has something for everyone. Her energy adds to Hair Monster's energy and together the fields of force go whacko. You get the feeling you're going out on your first eco-anarcho double date. There's no Weatherman-like bomb-exploding going to go on here, no Black Panther rabble-rousing. Just energy shock waves sending electric love currents all throughout the mise-en-scene. A major motion picture. A creature feature starring friction and static with a cameo by mystical genius.
Alkaloid Boy is telling Hair Monster about the unexpected wake-up call he and Blue Sky received from The Bureau Chiefs. "They were lost in the mid-twentieth century, man, I mean you wouldn't believe it. They had it all covered in one major crackup: breaking and entering, illegal search and seizure, unwarranted arrests and, of course . . . " Hair Monster raised his index finger to his lips and said Shhh. Rose Hips made an expression like I know, we've already been there. Blue Sky whispered that she thought the page was being bugged. Big Artist Man appeared out of nowhere and said Hey, watch out, they'll throw you in the pit for resisting slave labor technocratic nightmare. Isreal Disreal threw up his hands in passive disgust and said Win some Lose most. M/F an old friend recently taken out of the pit and put back on the contaminated soil said Don't kvetch it's worse down there. A few naive net.artists, not understanding the implications of their defaming propoganda, attacked a Jewish intellectual of Eastern European descent, stealing his electronic identity wishing they had access to the gold in his teeth. New Anima is now Nude Arsenal. S/he is busy inventing a religion that wipes out supply/demand via autosuck restitution full money back guarantee. Open your eyes and tell me what you see. |
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