Saturday, February 19, 2005


The textbook said that vision was
a serial set of light, phase-shifting
pond of colours volleyed by the retina
and funnelled into a silent-running black
box; in my definition though, I take account
that our inner technology's a slow matter
of choice and fate like rain choosing where
to land. Under creationist magician-theory,
however, you pick up a handicraft from
a market located somewhere in the Old

Put simply, when I watch a
movie I want to see it, let it ask me all
the questions it wants to, just like I want
to see this flower up close and that face
of yours as the cutting-edge of cute.

It's only when I rinse my mouth with too many
bottles of cheap gin, that my head spins
stories about vision as a load of turbulence
and cloaking devices. Stand wide so as not
to blow out the picture, but then you can't
make out a fucking thing from that kind of

What it comes down to is this: if I want to
see myself as a manta ray swooping the water
skywards, then I will see it just fine,
thankyou. No more eyes / lenses / frames of
reference for this flux-fish.

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