Saturday, May 03, 2003

Loops and Layers. Ostinatos and Fugues. Cuttings, Snippets, Stitchings, and Samples. A Literature Contemplative in that it imposes very little in the way of directionality. I pause to factor the role of Memory ( I click and hum, like the Computer). We are the scientists of memory, that's a Murnau quote, maybe from that Nosferatu movie. When the Empire of Dr. Bienke is a Spanish Vampire Movie Koo will wear a red wrestling mask and will ride a snowy horsy represenative of snowy horse and it will be an innocenct Coed Autumn and you will have drifted off into a B-culture reverie during your Thursday afternoon Ulysses Reading but soon you'll start up touseled and drooly and everybody will laugh and you'll have to say you're sorry. Later this evening the red headed dyke will let you take off the formidable armour of her matronly bra and you play with her titties. You kiss her and you both taste like hot cocoa and earnestness. Fu Manchu is simultaneously God, the villain, and Koo's best friend, pipe buddy, and counsellor in the Spanish Vampire Movie that was the Empire of Dr. Bienke. In fact Fu Manchu seems to be all the characters except for the girls and they are all the wicked, beguiling daughter of Fu Manchu. You can't tell about Koo because he's wearing that red mask and though he's awfully spry leaping upon his snowy horse sometimes in the way he stands he reminds you of the Chinaman. Much, much later you will learn that the family Fu Manchu has tricked you again, for sometimes it was indeed Fu Manchu behind the red mask and sometimes it was his luscious, evil daughter. With the exception of the red mask and the times when the toothsome and unscrupulous feminine fruit of Oriental evil is mysteriously painted blue the Spanish Vampire Movie of the Empire of Dr. Bienke is a black and white movie and, come to think of it, it's a black and white television. You didn't want but a black and white up at the cabin. So why now is it mysteriously receiving colour images through the desert ether? It is the capacity of B-culture objects to mutate themselves colorfully in the science of our memory that is the swirling heart of the gasses within the beaker the fiendish, irresistable slant eyed harlot proffers; oh I think you should take it white boy. You've been looking a little peaked and you need some ukulele love to bobo your mojo. I fear I shall never be taken seriously. So then I shall have to get by the clown. I'm the harlequin of poesy. Get by the clown. 6:32:28 PM    comment []