I do not like when you play it again, Sam, Sam I am
Feeling a little sam-sam here, thought I'd post to vent; (sounds like I'm translating myself from the French directly); "sam" is Old English meaning "half" -- "Samwise" means "halfwise" -- which really means "halfdumb"; (but you would no more say halfdumb than you would half-human; you would prefer to be samwise or half-elven -- and it's worth a metaphorical cookie if you know what character has a discussion with a barbarian about this issue);
it's after 12.30, but I've had too much chocolate and I'm samdistressed in at least one of my chakras; sam-sam -- half-half -- cosi cosi; imagine a hand, palm down, fingers out, yawing on an axle from wrist to elbow -- so so, a little of this a little of that: could be doing better; too much chocolate, not enough Freud; isn't that always the way;
"samcucu" means "halfquick" which makes me think of spaghetti Westerns with meat -- The Halfquick and the Halfdead -- zombie gunslingers; it's been done; it could be done better, but not tonight;
you wouldn't like Ballard's Crash, you wouldn't: the content (so far, and I'm not close to samdone with it) is too too, all sex and violence ("you never see anyone wearing hats anymore"), not for you the sex and then the violence, not serial, but all in one, simultcrash: crash sex into violence, the fenders lock, and you can't separate them; and the prose is perfectly fitted to the horrorshow atrocity exhibition that it is: like the slow-motion shrug of a car accordioning in, and up, and over to the side: not roughly violent, not loud, but just, "why not?";
a funny cartoon series that never was completed, concept by Ben, illo by Ryan, the "Why Not" guy; just one ever made; not as good as Bones We Don't Have, but that's only because that latter was a museum-piece, Ryan; someone shold put that one online; who got it in the dissolution?;
too much modernist fiction makes ben something something; chakra khan?; samfunny, samannoying; asi asi gracias, y tu?; feeling better, sambetter, or at least no more than samworse; feeling sam-sam; sam-feeling;
I wanted a quote from Wittgenstein, but when I googled it ("read with the and-feeling"), I got just one hit: my senior project; looking forward to finishing X and starting Y; where X is everything I have to do and Y is everything I want to do; I'm sam-kidding -- no, for once I'm kidding all the way to the bank on that one: what I want to do is what I have to do, give or take the work/play distinction; and a few weeks; avoid the trailer for Disney's Home on the Range; avoid everything; take evasive actions; where's waldo?; maybe tomorrow I will go through this and try to find all the references I've made -- from where I'm sitting now, samasleep in cat's boots and frog's pajamas, I can see a few fantasy books, a comic book, a roleplaying game, and I thought I saw something science fictional; but now it's like I've opened the case, and the springs and clockwork gears have gotten all over; this was meant to be shorter; logorrhea; stomach and brain sam-distressed; all on one chakra; today, a short fiction to end, produced not through any sam-sammy's, id est, not through feeling so so, no; today's sam-sam feeling gets exorcised by writing this post; who knows why I wrote this short story (Robert Kelly knows, it was for his 40th anniversary with Bard):
L'Enfant Sauvage
When they found him he couldn't speak a word of English. Excusez-moi, he said, s'il vous plait, j'ai faim, et je voudrais un p'tit morceau du pain. For all I know he's there still, and those who found him are there still, too, still scratching their heads, still wondering what to do with such a child.
it's after 12.30, but I've had too much chocolate and I'm samdistressed in at least one of my chakras; sam-sam -- half-half -- cosi cosi; imagine a hand, palm down, fingers out, yawing on an axle from wrist to elbow -- so so, a little of this a little of that: could be doing better; too much chocolate, not enough Freud; isn't that always the way;
"samcucu" means "halfquick" which makes me think of spaghetti Westerns with meat -- The Halfquick and the Halfdead -- zombie gunslingers; it's been done; it could be done better, but not tonight;
you wouldn't like Ballard's Crash, you wouldn't: the content (so far, and I'm not close to samdone with it) is too too, all sex and violence ("you never see anyone wearing hats anymore"), not for you the sex and then the violence, not serial, but all in one, simultcrash: crash sex into violence, the fenders lock, and you can't separate them; and the prose is perfectly fitted to the horrorshow atrocity exhibition that it is: like the slow-motion shrug of a car accordioning in, and up, and over to the side: not roughly violent, not loud, but just, "why not?";
a funny cartoon series that never was completed, concept by Ben, illo by Ryan, the "Why Not" guy; just one ever made; not as good as Bones We Don't Have, but that's only because that latter was a museum-piece, Ryan; someone shold put that one online; who got it in the dissolution?;
too much modernist fiction makes ben something something; chakra khan?; samfunny, samannoying; asi asi gracias, y tu?; feeling better, sambetter, or at least no more than samworse; feeling sam-sam; sam-feeling;
I wanted a quote from Wittgenstein, but when I googled it ("read with the and-feeling"), I got just one hit: my senior project; looking forward to finishing X and starting Y; where X is everything I have to do and Y is everything I want to do; I'm sam-kidding -- no, for once I'm kidding all the way to the bank on that one: what I want to do is what I have to do, give or take the work/play distinction; and a few weeks; avoid the trailer for Disney's Home on the Range; avoid everything; take evasive actions; where's waldo?; maybe tomorrow I will go through this and try to find all the references I've made -- from where I'm sitting now, samasleep in cat's boots and frog's pajamas, I can see a few fantasy books, a comic book, a roleplaying game, and I thought I saw something science fictional; but now it's like I've opened the case, and the springs and clockwork gears have gotten all over; this was meant to be shorter; logorrhea; stomach and brain sam-distressed; all on one chakra; today, a short fiction to end, produced not through any sam-sammy's, id est, not through feeling so so, no; today's sam-sam feeling gets exorcised by writing this post; who knows why I wrote this short story (Robert Kelly knows, it was for his 40th anniversary with Bard):
L'Enfant Sauvage
When they found him he couldn't speak a word of English. Excusez-moi, he said, s'il vous plait, j'ai faim, et je voudrais un p'tit morceau du pain. For all I know he's there still, and those who found him are there still, too, still scratching their heads, still wondering what to do with such a child.