Friday, December 31, 2010

Happy New Year from Configuration Space!

Another go at the Big Bang

The matter at the point of interest indicates that binary thinking will always arise because our experience of the world yields the intrinsic notion that the inverse of any proposition is also left out in the rain.

Postulate heaven and you get marshmallows. Postulate the geodesic and you get a saddle. That sort of thing. But only for the length of time the rocket boosters counter the pull of gravity, and then genius is the genius in context once again. Everything changed, and we just thought it had gone wrong.

We who prosper into belatedness see every age is falling apart. We have left the Post-Modern (through the postmodern spectacle) for the New Fundamentalism’s reactionary lifeboat. So of course all hands at once go to the rack of fusty fedoras. My fedora or yours? Satin binding and leather trim!

From the buffet table (“Pick your simulacra!”) comes Plan 9 from the Master/Slave Narrative: “Pick your nostalgia!” We’ve got your Modernism, your Quietude, some Jihad here under the table while the House of Representatives will be reading the Constitution on my birthday (Happy Birthday to me and to Sherlock Holmes [I get to pick my simulacra as well—that’s how Relativity works {E=SQ3R}]).

Tonight it’s called Transgressive as Toothless Wonder: Conceptual poverty (and/or Flarf) are turning the establishment values on their head! Unfortunately, the establishment has been drinking heavily for 50 years, so standing on its head feels like just another night on the town. Turns out, though, it’s a pretty fun night on the town anyway. There’s a beach with twin sunsets. The salesmen are watching the sailboats as lexicography: Everyone reading this, have your parents send me a dollar!

At home, facebook and email updates wait for you with “Good News!” and “Congrats!” to the non-existant group you belong to around someone else’s success. Also the plants need water. It’s good advice, even if your plants are plastic, just as it’s nice to see all these books with cheery slogans like: “Make my book the biggest seller on Amazon, SPD, and/or Goodreads for the time it takes Einstein to slice a loaf of bread and I’ll win a toaster!” though it’s a little long for a bumper sticker.

Does anyone still make toast? I mean, in that way? Doesn’t it cause space-time to melt or something? Better to hit them together, I imagine, with someone friendly who says, “Tell me all the reasons I should like something so that I can tell you why I don’t like it.”

It’s a vast, clear landscape. The only one left alive (sweet irony) is the author-function, and it’s you.


At 12/31/2010 10:56 AM, Blogger Gary B. Fitzgerald said...


Little pot of plastic flowers
on the front porch table.
They look so realistic, two or three
different kinds and colors
complete with stems and thorns and
leaves. A genuine spray of these
would cost a pretty dime.
But you can tell that these aren’t real
because they’re growing dingy,
becoming dull, coated with grime,
neglected by time and dusty.
Not like the real ones, fresh and clean,
a rainbow of petals and growth, leaves
glowing with living, vibrant green.

You can always tell the real ones
because one day they aren’t there.

Copyright 2008 - HARDWOOD-77 Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald

At 1/02/2011 6:57 AM, Blogger John Gallaher said...

I don't know. I've seen some plastic flowers that can get pretty droopy after a while!


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