SAD NOT YET?

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Very Short Introduction

Narrator follows an account of a time of the to-come, mainly with twists, switches, and bangs. Years are mingled like thought formations and geological concretions. When no one's watching, he can continue to teach, dance, and whisper answers asked from his older colleagues. When no one hears, he can jump from a cliff to prey, just like a prayer, but only in his mind, attended by the Spirit or not. Spirits coming in many forms, as various Curricula teach, he seems to seek sometimes vengeance of the body, wickedness of the heart, invisibility of desiring. These are invisibilities of push-kin desires, desires co-formed in multiple allying with synchrony of the blood ties, diachrony of inter-speciations, now-time (as opposed to now-moment) of the HOT & thin characters getting cooled with watching only to One face – HOT, Higher Order of Thinking. Faces, visages, looks mingle like interventions on mobile and moving work-sites. The first site-face was as it must, a man. But it could also have been a Woman's, Child's, a Gypsies, an Animal's site-face. Because little sisters forgot to work with “that” site-face, he started to play with it. And as with all stories (un-)told, on different hours on different stories, the mountain of consequential regrets didn't have time to pile up on the synchrony of the blood ties, diachrony of inter-speciations, now-moment of the Hot & Thin characters getting cooled with watching only to One face. The totemic law being broken several times, the older faces warned the little faces that they should start immediately to count, statistically speaking, the days in which they forgot him (it) outside. So outside, as inside, Narrator seems to loose time for getting near to an original one-face, smashing the hot forming mirrors of his blocked (c)Childhood Plateau with vengeance of the body, wickedness of the heart, invisibility of desiring, invisibilities of push-kin desires, drag-kins, odd-kins. His voice is now well-tuned on magenta frequency! From 2000, 2nd August, this Midnight Project moved forward.

You're sad, very very sad, but reachable, you want women, a woman, again like us. You better stop what you are doing, and follow that other machine-car. If it moves fast, then..., you wait. If it is slowing down, then..., you may eat your home-made sandwich, and think a lot of your... grown-up homeworks. Don't think too much of hoping to the crosstown traffic, beverages drank while driving etc. And don't visit unattended cats. See, the lights are already fading, getting used to variations on themes less known, good old tunes and some other sound related soundscapes involving machine-cars, tools and a lot of hygiene devices. These gimmick make our life work more smoothly. But smoothness is not always and always perceived in the same way, it's interpretation forced into conflicts immediately resolved with Ethics. That is why from 2002 onward, a lot of leading Ad Agencies started to blubber something against interpretation, but nonetheless, killing the Ad Agents' joy by slow and minimal insertion of fine crafted local and non-local morsels of Ethical views. So be it, some will re-learn to go to sleep with their theatrically ripped-off packages from the last Presentation or with something more manageable like a bottled beverage's lid. For now on, what all consumers of Ads, know just about everything about the car wheels' lids, colorful lids, new shining chrome lids and so on. Above the wheels is a fifth. And this is where the real danger start to propagate, because no one is eager to let the wheel alone, after the tragic accident on the highway. You know, they, especially women, but men also, need so desperately to see again their little children, not letting them to grow, develop. Some of that the Philosophers of Language stressed out repeatedly, but gave up on pursuing other goals – they are called periods, Blue period, Red Shifts, Orange Umbrellas, Dark Canvasses instead of the blank slates, blinding Light of Speculative Creativity on and on – and remains possibly as a saddle for other, future riders. A saying in Romanian goes as follows: Horses don't die when dogs want it. In some cases, the opposite may hold at least as true: Dogs (that is, dogs which can read too, ahahaha) don't die, when their power-horses want it. This saddle- explanation lasted more than a Century, because, isn't it, when moving, especially walking, men also exercises neuro-muscular pathways for every day encounters, successful short less mundane meetings, and even very disturbing events, with various moods and expectations. If you sleep-talk with their waking-dream written idea (climbing down the saddle), you end-up just with interesting descriptions, and no fun. Fun may seem an awkward choosing for Science, but when it comes to Arts, a lot of heavy duty are equally balanced with most extraordinary endeavors personally crafted to forget; voluntary amnesia... Less and less people know who the sheep Dolly was, if she bring forth normal developed progenies, or who the dog Laika was, and if she lived long enough to play, learn again in/from Nature. And that's why sleeps are adorned with Deep Left Hemisphere dreams and interrupted with Intense short Right Hemisphere dreams, meetings with High Officials of World's States are stale and Liberty Parades-like occurrences are being met with disbelief now, because of protocol(-)ing lacks, leaks and locks. Something must change, and that are the Big Brothers' politics of touch....

0.1 Hallo, Dolly, how are you doing? I very much miss Laika do you happen to know her? Of course not!

0.6 Directing movies is a lot like unlearning the fear of swimming.

0.61 I am the host. Don't know who's the guest.

0.76 By written papers and reading you advocate, by paper read you will feel drawn being advocated.

0.85 You don't have a machine-car, He'll give you one,

You don't have enough money, he'll find you some, With his blueish eyed shags (hashtags)!

0.89 A child is being listen to, but in the same moment...

We have to lose many clothes for gaining our wings back, but this good story has ended almost a decade ago, with three young fellows of different ages, not too close and not so distant. Their was a time disentangled, meeting with long pauses, months, even years. Time stood with each one in different way.

RIP stands for Recovery In Progress, man, not for Resquiam In Pace.

Yup, they already know, someone's dying from your hand.

Red...

No, not that one, your sister is safe. But you can cry.

You bastard!

How did they know the thing with the bicycle and little pink towel?

It is a thing only drivers can know.

If anything can sound more cryptic than this...

But you know he's got the market on his feet?

Maybe.

Why are you being facetious?

I'm not being h.^&*().tious. It is done. They don't fast, they don't postpone, they are on the edge...

The edge of what?

The thing, you know.

Now, you really sound awful, like those Canadians friends of his girl Colleague, lost in listening and poorely handling the conversational.

Conversational? Now you really sound like a W Allen lost last show.

Anyway, is he still alive?

Does it matter?

No, I was curious. In our youth, it was a fad.

And that was the end of it. Anything else.

Of course. I'm on Poppers and nothing is how it used to be.

Honey you're a dread. After you lost so much money on the Gym, with that awful initiations...

And a lot of Substance...

Please, don't remember me. Anyway, did you really inject your... thing, to be stiff all the time?

Yup, crazy fags believes i'm a human Dildo.

Does it feel nice?

Only when they fell for it.

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