| January 9, 2003 | ||
|
|
UNTITLED REPORT (for Henri Michaux) BAGHDAD-- For the first time, someone spoke out and pushed for a radical strain on the gastric organ. The floor was beginning to strain under the weight of Saturn's return and no one knew at what point things would break or become understandable. The only other option was to leave. A moment's notice and we could be anywhere. But this means nothing to Happiness, old and committed as he is. Besides, people were already gathering here, watching the main munitions sit, growing weaker with each inspection, until they became a cloud of its former self. This was never the plan. Originally the idea was to persuade the birds and the palm trees to call a truce in the Southeast zone. But the birds wouldn't budge, insisting on their right to remain light. It was diplomatic, to say the least, that the birds forged ahead with the deal that would expire before we did. But no matter, since the trees were off on their own, sizing up the region beyond the pavement and the dirt. Was concrete going to play ball? Hardly. It was a magnificent day and no respectable slab would be caught on such a day, doing the dirty work of research and development. The ghosts are another story. They died a few seasons ago, leaving only the dimmest memory of their work behind. Who remembers the boo hoo militias anymore? They were bright and respected in all the communities back in the day. Girls and boys of every academic pedigree longed for the day of the examinations and the chance to prove their worth as ghosts. The honor vied with the pleasure and no one was disappointed. The rigor assured that. The ministers, bold but lazy, disagreed on the best psychological profile to use to weed out the weak and protect the integrities of the past, which is different from the sheer dishonesty of nostalgia. No decision was made, partly because of the debacle in the mountains. But there is time, which wasn't the case back before the threat that swept over the country a few years ago. Or was it earlier? I can't be sure. The sun rises incredulously, as usual, then as now, without fanfare and in full knowledge of the consequences. Once, the assistant secretary to the sun asked openly at a press event what the word "failure" meant. The press fell silent. It wasn't the first time. The theory of public opinion is the widely held belief that systems matter. The comprehensive nature of these systems become clear once one commits to the idea of violence. The body isn't the only vessel for it. Plastic bottles of all shapes and sizes can express pain and mutilation as well, sometimes with greater clarity than missing fingers or shoes. The proteins in plastic is valued above all: this is true. Nevertheless, the service industry here concentrates, no, obsesses, over bodies. The institute for ballet is a program designed to counterbalance the academy for passing out weapons to the civilian animal population. Success will be hard to gauge, since the ministry has agreed not to remove or reduce the hallucinatory effects of gravity. This is unfortunate, but not without merit. Weight is a natural extension of suffering. The river hasn't spoken in days. We are frankly relieved but find it strange that there wasn't even a press release announcing the arrival of the new bottom-feeders that have slowly become the staple diet for those foreign enough to eat them. Everyone, even Coffee the monkey, is tired of speculating the cause, much less the effect. Numbers are of no use. Unless one counts the number of shoe polish boys under the age of three. They range in the hundreds and work collectively to restore order and language on the street. They are wild and cunning and sing. Don't ask for song number three: it's a trick. But number twelve is nice. It goes something like this: "A shift has come / The movement, at first slow and imperceptible, has gained a certain momentum and clarity / This is what death and desperation will do / It gives new urgency to old work and pushes ideas beyond accepted boundaries and into an undiscovered territory filled with / risks / failures / promises /." |
|
|
|
