Imagine that you're on T.V. because you are ... wave to the F.B.I cameras or I just woke up one day & I wanted to go to the store & get bananas (by Fly)
poem
I woke up one day & I walked outside & I didn't recognize anyone on my
street ... there was just a bunch of people running around in costumes with
walkie talkies & headsets & clipboards Mumbling to themselves & I
couldn't tell if they were actors or directors or cops or crazy people ...
I just walked out my front door to get bananas & suddenly I don't know
if this is real life or the movie of real life or the television
miniseries ... and I can't remember television but people tell me its like
this ... staged events with lots of people watching & some actors getting
paid more than others ... I haven't watched t.v. in years but people tell
me its real ...
how post-post-modern of us to have lost our imagination so completely
that now real life imitates television
which is then based on a simulation of itself
and ... I just woke up & walked out the door ... & I noticed some people on
the street had developed a disease which caused them to sprout eyeballs
all over their bodies ... they were running around yelling "see?! see?! ... I
told you! ... see?!" ... & there were a bunch of other people with detachable
heads & limbs & they kept getting themselves all mixed up with each
other & there was a big clutter of the excess limbs & heads & eyeballs
being sold as souvenirs to tourists on ave.C ... & because I am a witness
to this display of the fragmentary effects of the marketing of identity
my teeth start to fall out ... just to remind me that they have more
control than I do ... but I don't care because it will make a good
necklace ...
AND ... I just woke up & I just wanted to go to the store & get some
bananas but my socks kept falling down into my shoes & this is more
irritating to me right now than any aspect of the repressive society in
which we live ... because ... I just want to go to the store & get some bananas
but there is a man in my face who wants me to be the girl he owes money
to ... & there is a man who is in charge of something & he is standing in
a dark green doorway & he only becomes visible when referred to & even
then he can only be seen out of the corner of your eye ... & there is a
woman who can't understand him & she's laughing like an avalanche & she
says she will have to take a lot of pschychiatric drugs before she will
be able to talk to him ... & HE wants HER to be the girl he owes money to ... &
there is a man with a blood filled mouth telling the sidewalk that the
universe has begun to collapse & spiral inward & he says its because
god is money but money isn't worth anything unless it comes with
information but no one else knows anything about this because they are
too busy being unemployed under employed or dead ...
& all I wanted to do was walk down the street to the store but I know
by now that these things are not that simple & I end up in the middle
of a group of people & we are running like a pack of dogs trying to
avoid getting shot by the long range cameras used by the soldiers of
the photographic army & we end up in a room full of experimental
telephones & first we think its great & we start calling everyone we
know all around the world ... but then it becomes torture because there are
scientists who have the job of sitting there listening to our
conversations ... we become consumed with paranoia & we start trying to
speak in codes so as not to incriminate ourselves ... this makes it
impossible for anyone we call to understand what the fuck we are
talking about ...
someone new comes in & he is not from around here & so he doesn't
understand the language that our seceret language is based on & anyway
he refues to use the telephones & he refuses violently & we are amazed
at this concept of the denial of convenience & we don't understand how
we can have secerets if we don't tell people we have secerets ...
but all I wanted to do was go to the store & get bananas but
outside there was a big demonstration happening but the people couldn't
decide or agree on one word to shout in unison (which is all they were
now permitted by a new law issued by the federal bureau of perception)
they can't agree so they replace words with fists that punch the air &
leave stains of red & blue like shadows that slowly fade as the
demonstration becomes a 2 dimentional representation of itself ...
this is not a demonstration this is a badminton game & the masses of
people are now forced to become spectators in the the bleachers ... their
voices are only heard as background noise & the real players are not
much affected by this
the spectators are only visible in black & white because there is not
enough room in this program for color
& at night they will exchange paranoid theories instead of bodily fluids
& they will carrass each other with screams of love & tenderness
& they will imagine themselves to be on t.v. where they can be a
thousand pictures without having to say a word.