Meanwhile, I think of sleep
after 44 hours of yawning eyes,
two hours of sweat lodge inhabitation, two
nights out drinking, seven or eight tense moments
fifty some-odd reacquaintances later.
44 hours. That's a long time. I'm still not tired.
----- Original Message -----
From: Eryk Salvaggio <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Date: Sun, 04 Jul 2004 01:43:23 -0400
To: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Subject: [X] I Think About Stalin
> I think about Stalin and how we laugh at those state run commie ads in
> red and whites and blacks and writing like broken led lights on the
> alarm clocks. I wonder out loud if maybe the true test of whatever comes
> next is if we can look at the television ads of our own time with the
> same xonophobia and laugh ironically about the myths we told ourselves
> were important. Whatever comes next might know better and maybe even
> irony can be purer, the poetry removed from advertisements, the
> television left alone for communicating the beauty of the every day - a
> woman in the rain drops a barret that shines like flashbulbs- or where
> the round table discussions concern our varying degrees of autonomy and
&
gt; what we may do for each other next without coercion, how we can kill the
> Bin Laden that has taken residence in our own frontal lobes, teetering
> as a society on the edge of full collapse into self organized naked
> light, unsold and unsellable, unbranded and realized in complete
> subjectivity, oh! It scares us, the offensive nature of our internal
> demands. Or else; what we are now: on the trains and in the buses, a
> carrying case for parenthetical lives, our whole selves existing only at
> the end of conversations that trail off within ourselves that we can't
> scream out loud over dinner in the place that you go so you can feel
> like its you. I CAN'T TALK TO YOU. I CAN'T TALK TO ANYONE. The
> suffocation is in our language. The isolation is in our language. The
> redemption is all in how you write the poem and the poem is nothing more
> than the question mark on the tv roundtable
of Hardball with Jean
> Beaudrillard.
>
> 30 seconds is too long to think about coca cola.
>
> -e.
>
>
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