I was waiting for you to call when I noticed it!
I'm feeling dead again! And on the mezzanine
that falls between the L and the M,
there was this young couple
and they were makin out.
Y'ask me, they could've looked a little harder
and found themselves a room.
Well, it's September.
It's time to start packing away those things.
Here's the smile that I'll
impress upon my face.
And here's the empty cup
I'll take and I'll call half-full.
We resort to relying upon automata
when we cannot rely on other people.
We rely on other people when we
cannot rely upon ourselves.
And here's the commodification of religion!
And here's the commodification of death!
Jesus Jesus Christ--when did
Weird Weird Chess
become a machine?
And all these cold and sterile electronic records standing in for present warm wet love--
The vagueness I can't get rid of--
I want to but I still can't force myself to want it badly enough--
The Sore Throat (--Aaron Kunin)
ReplyDeleteI’m inventing a machine
for concealing my desire.
And I’m inventing another
machine for concealing the
machine. It’s a two-machine
system, and it sounded like
laughter. And I’m inventing
a machine for concealing
the sound. You, to me: “Why are
you concealing the beauty
of your machine?” Every machine
has more beauty than the last,
for everything whose purpose
is to conceal seems to change,
in the end, into a sign
of what it’s concealing. And
now the sound that once sounded
like laughter is so loud that
it seems more like sobbing or
laughter concealing sobbing.
All my inventing is a
complete disaster. It’s not
concealing my desire, it’s
talking about my desire
to conceal my desire, like
a voice on a message machine
that would say: “Hello. About
desire, I’d like to say a
word or two. It’s not your eyes,
it’s not the word you say, it’s
not your complaining voice that
I desire. All I desire
is your applause.” It’s hard not
to hear what the message is
saying, also it’s hard to
keep myself from inventing
another machine to keep
from hearing it. So invent
a machine for disinventing.
This will be the last machine
I ever invent, and its
purpose will just be to change
every machine into shit.
No more inventing (for me).
—What a shame. It once was a
wonder of a machine; now
it’s more like a disaster.
—I think he left a message . . .
—You’re wrong: he just left a mess.