Wednesday, 2 January 2008


You try to factorise the time-flow, stabilise your co-ordinates; everything blurs. Being is filtered, diluted. The qualia thicken. So easy to become what you behold. You plagiarise more of your old selves. Belief systems sway around your ears like cheap scaffolding. Whoever you were needs to be reinforced by anecdotal evidence. The flop and flap of physical appendages is ludicrous, not ludic.You're a text full of intertextuality, but you're the only one to get it. It's the beginning of the end-game. The year is not new. It's old.

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