Room 107



These can be seen as images or fragments of images or images of fragments. At this stage we might consider "The Wound and the Bow" the book of essays by Edmund Wilson or we might consider other - well we could consider an infinite variety as we leap into the grave to philosophise - only to find Yorrick - for we are surely at the "wobble point" (or the 3b point) when Eternity Herself (pisshead!) leans down and paints our ears with new resolve (or is that reslove?) as to the consideration of a new renewed vigour and a +ve decline and fall into hope or (the old rolled Protogroanic slime - so well recalled!!) as things old young and sessile or not (case may be) start warming up in the yes no yessiness mess we had hoped would fold away; tent; but again we recall the finger - either pointing or indexing - or being something that had been something that had been (caught out in fact) "having written" or "writ" (case may be) and being uncancelable - especially as we (and he) re think or "hear" (for who can hear?!!) the preliminary shiver (one of those feeble erotic fat bastards who actually still believe(s) in things!!!!) - or was that shudder? - touche! trouve! - as the machine leaps into life (as they say in X) and thence the recall of those "horribly mutilated limbs and genitals" he observed - result of mustard gas - sounds so harmless - I - if I had some ham to eat or consume - I would indeed use Colemans - I use Colemans - and we image have of man on an ice pack in immaculate dress - being borne (or was that born?!) away by the imperceptible movement in some glass cold ocean where regret (carefully kept) and love etc become only the ghasted ghosts of silent ghosts inside the fagged out and toroidal echoes slowly dissipating smoke smook steam arises in canisters of concealed butts (or was that 'buts') - of course nothing is much of use now [if 'it' is "It"?]: - and - the bowler - hatted Immaculata Man (looks so much like P McGoohan) is quite at Peace - e'en smirking! - so we skew back to the Nothing Flower - and the various possibilities of consistency -or what is called "moral certainty" and indeed a kind of rectitude re-erects itself inside us as we advance on the powdered moon (facing itself, and giggling googling to Echo - the Bitch!) - or read a story of a soldier who loved a leopard - for it is clearly futile (or pukile?) to re-examine David or Michelangelo's "Pieta" - wonderful as these works are - it "all falling over ("at the mouth" - ho!) as 1) Their lastingness is in doubt 2) something moved 3) the virgin is or would be (grotesquely) vast again (or was that Finneagain finished again- ha ah!!)) if she got up - Dwarf the whole of Man and History (and Gott?) 4) supported by the marble folds (reippping collumnars thro her dress flowing descend about down up her majestically ecstatica ant errant newt face..) almost seeming to rise UPWARDS 5); I at least have read nothing by Edward Upward 6) J A has "done" Parmigianino - and Convexity again raises its ugly face, magical marvel of marble; and how are we to continue with cannallettoical interruptions such as that, some noisy (or was that nosey?) bastard saying hullo and .... well it all intercounnterfabulates and its smoko in any case (this is no slur on those whose predilectio delicto inflagroante delecto forepooooooorceptile conforgulation has been ressessiled in the circalouakaathumping pumping ooohh aah ooh ahhh ooh ahhh Free Process as in Morgan's Transforms oooh ahhh ohooh ahhhhhach ("Well those Byellorussian tone poems we are all so familiar with!" ( drives down ( egg nightmare ( wishes ( begin? (Homo Thinkins? (Ecstaticasss (eclairrissement! (I paid my penny (ad in fin......... ... ... ... ... (startles the the thought knob (throb and bub (we and him (hist of nightmares (wake up to death or flowers (beans again .... ( and all mimsy were the groves (a nightmare of faces....(labels...(peril - at your -peristalttic peril (evil Errol (big ( East of... (stomach retreat to reiterate ( sate (cancel nor all yer wit...(a wity desecration as of dog shit (light again...