Thu, 19 May 2005

ballroom dancing with the vermin-eater
As of this afternoon it has finally started snowing here in the republic of Iowa, the ghosts of head-on fatalities attempting to read the calligraphy of tiretracks across the asphalt before the snow swallows them completely. I went out with my new secondhanded camera to try to catch pictures of them, the confusion in their spirit-eyes as they lose the lattice of the body, now little more than a tissue-map spread acros their dashboards, and become less-than, minus the habits of the organs, so that their forms become increasingly nonhumaniod, until all you can see is shifting patterns in the snow, the brain making connections where no connections exist. I never made it out to the highway, however, as I was spotted by the vermin-eater, out on the deck in her stained prom dress, attempting to catch snowflakes on the tips of syringe needles. The vermin-eater believes that the form of snowflakes are a communications technology, so that each snowflake makes use of a limited alphabet of patterns in order to form an unlimited set of information-packages, and since none of the failures at the university will put proper funding behind the snowflake translation project, she gets absolutely frenzied when it snows, as the information is lost forever as soon as the sun returns. Like many of us out here in the park, the vermin-eater stopped paying her lot fees and utilities years ago, after the managers were vanished, but unlike myself (who still earns a marginal living by which I can support my experiments and addictions) the vermin-eater lives off what her gang of dogs drags out of the fields, and since her dogs have shrunken skulls, the prey they hunt are moles, skunks, and crows. The vermin-eater told me to stay away from the accident scene; the dogs and a cult of organ theives were having it out and neither side would have much ptience for my phototaking. I nodded, shrugged, and walked to the office to get a coke.
(12:14.05.19.2005) [/ana] #