1 - Vs Grandpa
You move on by losing. When you win,
you're stuck. Graying local hero at the two dollar pitcher night
hitting on a 20 year-old. A little replication robot. Everybody
made out of creamed Khan, god help this neo-Genghis who is fully his
father in a horseless plateau of rhododendrons and irises. Three
things about concrete: it's heavy, its conducts heat, it
cracks.
2 - vs Egg
Out on the edges of the kill screen,
lifeforms never before imagined tickle the avatar with limbs of
overflowing integers. Being that they are of the same substance as
joystick and the ctrl-alt-delete, it's only a matter of time before
these Commands can call collect. Just try refusing the charges when
every word out of your mouth to the critter is “y(n)e(o)s”. How
well does man maintain his center against the ape inside's inevitable
oblivion? That sonofabitch sawing away with slogans until every atom
is an alien intelligence is one wrong way. Yoking your eggs to the
ox of an apple-blossom because it's old and for no other reason is
another, Julia Butterfly.
3 – vs Vs
End credits of a Western, the stranger
stuck between worlds saddles up and out (into that vespertine
wilderness which will surely as error overwhelm the current
township's archetypal arrangement of idols : banks to rob – taverns
to drink at – sheriffs to be good or to be bad – dancing girl to
tearfully confess to – the Holy Spirit to descend on the
Congregationalist Church en masse most every Sabbath Sunday). But
not just yet. The hills shimmer like sea turtles emerging from the
water and hidden behind them is a freeway, the roar of engine
blending with the clipclop clip clipclop of hooves until the stranger
(gun still warm) pricks his ears at a muted plunk, tokens overflow
the casino cup, bounce off the carpet, roll under a neighboring
machine, not to be recovered.
