Marble Chips At The Base Of A Rough-Hewn Statue

Thesis A: Collective will synergistically determined by agents within collective process, due to continual state of dynamic modification. The oubliette of reason overcome by systems so powerful their description would involve ideas more powerful again.

Thesis B: Will an illusion, will 'o the wisp, will simply won't. A ponderer's ponderous chimera. A missing link in an absent chain.

Thesis C: A & B untenable, more icecream please.

***

There was a second before the hands touched, in that problem in pigment, where He saw all that was and will be and He saw the endtimes and He saw the Hereafter, everything, everything, and he still reached out his hand. Adam regrets he did not grasp the finger and pull it off. He regrets he did not wear gloves.

They still don't talk. It's all very well for them, but what about the kids?

***

It is past midnight. The platform is deserted. There is an empty bottle of cheer-bubbles next to a conical pile of vomit. It smells like an abbatoir.

The mechanical voice clarion:

"TO AVOID CONGESTION, PLEASE MOVE ALONG THE FULL LENGTH OF THE PLATFORM."

Suddenly it all makes sense. It is the decisions we avoid, not those we take, which determine. Endgame could have been written over and over again, and still it remains a pimple on the literary consciousness when it should be an open laceration. I think that's what S.B. had in mind. Anyone who writes hoping that their words will kill themselves before they have a chance to metamorphose into any other consciousness has the right idea. Imagine huge libraries of books which self-immolate when they open, databases which short-circuit on access, pamphlets that crumble into dust at a glance. Cant that can destroy itself is only one idea, but what an idea!

***

The pavement says 'smash the state'. A scrawl written in indelible paint, on the cusp of the largest and most imposing building in the city. Of those who would write it, the act of writing it, and its target, the most enduring of all seems the simple molecules of plastic themselves, bonded to artifical rock. A message which will outlast its creator, medium and target. Of course, none of it means anything to anyone.

***

A human being is a dimorphous exercise in membrane-mediated organic fluid managment. This is why we feel special.

***

So, believe in God, and you lose nothing. Of course, He will never see through such a cheap trick. Will your faith be a rational decision now? "I choose to critically suspend my power of choice." No toes stepped on in that little neural misfire? Will He be had like a catfish, hooked on a piece of worm at the end of a line?

Even for a Frenchman, that is so twisted it needs new branches of topology for its full description.

***

"Look at my idea, it matches my couch."
"Yeah, great. But mine is colour-coordinated with my whole living room suite."
"Your chaize-lounge doesn't fit with the ensemble."
"Hell, I suppose you're right. That's an empiricist chair if ever there was one."
"I'd reupholster in blue."
"Cool."

If only interior decorators worked inside skulls.

***

He looked into her eyes and kissed her on the lips and cried because one day he would leave her. And it had already happened, and it would be all his fault, and she would sit at home while the world turned, and wonder if he ever knew her. He cared, of course. But he stopped when he knew what had already happened. He had heartache from 10:17 until 10:35 - a personal best.

***

What do we want?
EQUAL RIGHTS.
When do we want them?
NOW.
Brothers and sisters, why should Sodom get all the attention?
PRAISE HIS NAME.
We were just as bad, even worse. Can I get an AMEN?
AMEN, BROTHER.
We did things those dilettantes of depravity could scarely dream of.
THAT'S RIGHT
We want our own verb!
HALLELUJAH.
This is the Gomorrah revival!
PRAISE BE.

***

"Would you like to give money to my charity?"
"No."
"Oh... really?"
"Really, really no."
"Did you know, sir, that for the price of just two beers a day you could help the..."
"From now on, I will drink two beers every day without fail and stop giving what money I already do to charity. You convinced me."
"Of what?"
"I'm not sure. But you'll be double-busy now, won't you?"
"