"All the Hues
That Fit, We Tint"

Siberia, USA: Today, global warming. Tonight, dark, unless you count the stars. Tomorrow can be reached via time machine. Yesterday, who can remember that far back?

Websafe Studio, blogging since 2003, featuring art, comics, digital whiteboards, virtual characters, Web design, writing

Friday, April 04, 2008


The Mirror: Paradise is full of propellers?

Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: Beyond, a whole world.
W: Are you encouraging me to go out amongst 'em?
M: (Pause, re-enter)
W: Now who are you?
M: As world and word lose brilliant articulation, my consciousness seems oriented to something beyond the world.
W: So the near is fading out.
M: The impulse matures, which means everything else in the world, into which the impulse is planted by speech, corrupts it.
W: It sounds like when sound waves degrade but still exist in some form.
M: Then we should shake hands --
W: (Shakes)
M: The beatific vision is to see people as non-worms.
W: Or non-apes.
M: Is that a hint that we should add more of Foreman's quotes to the mix?
W: Is Foreman less ape than the rest of us?
M: Don't feel too sad about this, we can improvise.
W: I am trying my level best.
M: Thank you.
W: You are too kind.
M: Look into my eyes and see nothing.
W: Mesmer.
M: I don't know what to write.
W: Write a letter to the Bureau of Internal Cupboards.
M: But invisible.
W: In invisible ink?
M: Language fails me here.
W: You can't see the language written invisibly.
M: Tell me about Richard Foreman.
W: He is an avant-garde playwright based in New York City.
M: You are too kind.
W: It was easy for me to tell you what I already knew.
M: We are both humble enough.
W: We are marvelously polite today.
M: You can't see the language written invisibly.
W: Maybe you're writing secret insults?
M: Sure, suit yourself.
W: No, I won't go there.
M: Try putting a stop to it.
W: I can't stop you from doing it, at least not right this minute.
M: I don't have as much money as an ATM!
W: Does it take that much money to keep from insulting people?
M: Here I am, doing my Paradise thing.
W: In Paradise, are there insults?
M: Propellers on things.
W: Paradise is full of propellers?
M: How does one exit?
W: By saying "Goodbye."
M: We could try.
W: Goodbye!
M: Closing in 1 second ... Goodbye!