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The Fourth Dementia Neil de la Flor, Maureen Seaton & Kristine Snodgrass
I
do not exactly understand what you're talking about. How
would you define "unus mundus dreams"? I
would divine a sauce with garlic and pepperoni then give my guests a
side plate of sharp cheddar and gusto. How
would "you" define synergie? Limitless
editing, prosciutto (since we are on Italian food), and the third in a
triptych. Martin
Landau is lachrymose.
Martin Landau is lingua franca.
Franco is lickety-split.
Franco is like a ligature.
Line dancers are golden.
Line dancers are little gnomes.
Little
genomes. Experiencers
convey the realness of non-ordinary reality in such terms as "third
zone,"
"fourth dimension,"
"Emerald City," "Imaginatio
vera."
I do not exactly understand what I’m talking about. If
one understands what he/she is ‘talking’ about, then what would be
the point of chatter? Chatterbox,
chauffer, a charge, a charm, I understand a chartreuse clod, I don’t
understand checkmate. Cheerios, cherrystones, those chickadees, those
children, I understand chiromancy.
I understand nothing. And
you. You built me a footstool. You may not know it but I have feelings.
You write everyone you know an email with asshole in the subject line. In
omnia paratus. What is an "asshole"? An
undulant fever.
But we are getting away from our core.
Corps.
Corpse.
Epilogue Notes
II I
remember getting an e-mail in second grade.
It was a unilateral attempt to get me to “go” with Jimmy
Reilly.
(How can you bring up Jimmy Reilly at this late juncture?) I will
not answer myself.
I
remember seeing the Undulating Mummies at the library, and o, how they
swung their knees and zeros.
I
remember what it was like thinking a bout having a baby, before I had a
baby.
(I am thinking about it). Do
you remember… No,
don’t you dare. It’s
unimportant, underconstructed.
We
rely too heavily upon the body of the text.
This is not the body of the text.
This is the remainder of our perception.
No
rain days.
No
relinquishment. (Stop
me before I ruin your lives.)
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