In America, women are more dangerous than a loaded shotgun in the hands of a drunken 10 year old boy. In America, a narrator strains to see images and hear sounds, always echoing bodiless voices or voiceless bodies, origins unknown. In America, a recording of an expiring consciousness struggling to find meaning in a situation which offers no purchase in mind or sensation. The consciousness makes repeated, feeble efforts to assert the possibility of color, sound, movement, memory, another person’s presence, only to fall back hopelessly into the recognition of colorlessness, paralysis, silence, oblivion, solitude. In America, there is an image of a self imagining itself, but a self imagining itself imagining itself, often suspecting that it is being imagined itself. In America, remember the swimmer, always swimming whenever we saw him---swimming---wet----seeking the next pool? In America, suddenly everything was thin, two-dimensional, without body and fullness. In America, brightness fell from the sky and the black ruins in our hearts awakened again. In America, the idea itself, which transforms our minds conceptions into events imperceptible through the labyrinths and fibrous interlacing of matter, disguises the new idea of what belongs to nature. In America, a manifested matter in the domain of forms. In America, sensations so subtle, they are a pleasure for the spirit to frequent. In America, a magic state. In America, a concrete concept of the abstract. In America, true to nature, a soul at the mercy of phantasms from beyond the void of fear. In America, a frenetic dance of rigidities and angles. In America, our minds have begun to plummet. In America, a visual and audible whispering------a voluminous magnetic whirl. The strut of the double. In America, countering the narrative is the key to saving humanity.
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