The eventuality of dissipation and Thursday

fig.3ish) (Colour) Swed subs 06:00 Min Run Time


"Our's, deep and manic as the bottom bait in a half tub. The day will calm and the wind will finally die. The water will fresh itself in the end, no more salt or piss to taste," It should be higher still but this is where we are. An east coast flavored dog whistle in a haircut flavored love suit wearing a clipped tie under his bold chin swaggers by for a drink, "Hmmm, it's ornamental, tastes like an arrangement of cranberries folded into dry-goods, patient dry-goods. There are hints of ash in the back of it, they surrender quickly to a spry lavender that's easy if a little wan. I like it. How much is the bottle."

A woman in coveralls arrived early on the 10th. She unpacked everything slowly, inspecting each piece in turn. Then she skipped ahead and everything was suspended from the ceiling, free from all concern. The team left the park after that. The goodbyes were all warm and a lot of hugs went around in sudden circles with the echo of jerky sobs bouncing off the ceiling. There was even something for the kids, Barks the shaggy dog came out for awhile. Elliott was sad when it ended.

"Let's be as plain as possible. Let's call it, Alex and Elliott reveal the distance between one fence and the next by using something like space." Feeling crazy ass at the loss of his time, his practice and all of the momentum that he's been accustomed to, Elliott spends his day out in the hallway. He counts the gray tiles and wishes for a shorter ladder. He mumbles and worries about things that Alex told him, "funding and programming have to change the way that they think about each other. It's their relationship to the worker, the provider, the maker of math if you want get fucking enlightened, this is what's been called to question."

"The creation of wealth is relief from the friction of ownership, we're still writing down names," her clip board shifts and Alex clicks her pen. "This is what distribution will look like in the future. There'll be 3 guys stapling banners on top of a satellite and someone will be late but that's okay. It's open mic night and everyone gets to sing. So wait for it, this crazy model of cultural dispersion/diaspora whatever. Does it resemble our current neoliberal economic construct?"

Alex picks at the back of her ear. She shifts before saying, "Go ahead, just walk it back around that little circle and bang, there it is. The Drive-In, the creepy Chevy in the mud by the fountain under the tree. I keep saying it because it's truth, not poetry. It's all here Elliott. The sourcing of so much wealth, it's application to the greater purpose of making things that are even bigger then this. Things that can make people think even more as a result, it's happening."

"Alex, our abilities to observe and catalog have deteriorated. They've shriveled right up into themselves. There's nothing with which order can be approximated." The ladder is good for leaning on as he's saying this. It feels authentic, actionable, just right in this plain space of a hallway. The lights aren't switched on. Elliott's arrangement of frames is quite candid. All of their colors are on display, hanging on like frozen fish under the seam of the wall and the heavy crossbeam. The steel and the gypsum were scootched into proximity and then glued into place above the ladder. "There are no values to be set."

"Oh, did I fail to mention that Alex and Elliott are penguins," The girl in the popcorn booth shouts after me as I make my way towards the front of the lobby and the great golden doors.
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