I spend a lot of my time in my apartment writing letters… knowing that the window of time I have to do so is becoming increasingly short. Although I despised “the paper trail” it would be my only outlet for communication for quite some time. I had to get the information out while I could. The letters, they would all contain some insights, little patterns, puns. The last letter I would mail to C.S. started off about mathematics but then I had to get to the real heart of the matter, the disconnection.
Even so, there is a devious underground operating through telepathic misdirection and camouflage. The partisans make recordings ahead in time and leave the recordings to be picked up by control stations while they are free for a few seconds to organize underground activities. Largely the underground is made up of adventurers who intend to outthink and displace the present heads. FREEDOM fighters. I simply type that which my brain utters… incomplete static fragmentations and all. I wrote enough of the newsletter and messages to last for the next five years or so; this would buy me some time. Immediately after finishing them, the codes were gone from my mind. I was finally at rest with them.
In the beginning was the word and the word was God and has remained one of the mysteries ever since. The word was God and the word was flesh, we are told. In the beginning of what exactly, was this beginning word? In the beginning of WRITTEN history. It is generally assumed that spoken word came before the written word. I suggest that the spoken word as we know it came after the written word. In the beginning was the word and the word was God and the word was flesh… human flesh… In the beginning of WRITING. Korzybski, who developed the concept of General Semantics, the meaning of meaning, has pointed out this human distinction and described man as “the time binding animal.”
This disordered language of technology breaks the human body down to its own language, translating and reconstituting it within the cyber space. The heartbeat is digitized, mortality isolated and alienated from the body. Something that enlightens or empties us in accordance to which the player chooses to connect to it.
“SILENCE.” Humans could never, ever evolve unless they could stand the sound of their own silence. I would need to leave everything behind.
images by Terry Wright / Text by Jacurutu:23
Jacurutu:23 is a self-described “Scissorman”; one who cuts up and reassembles sound, video, art and reality itself to suit his own means. He is a professional wrestler, and an audioinformant with numerous releases as Jacurutu:3 and under several other aliases.
Terry Wright is an artist and writer who lives in Little Rock, Arkansas. His latest poetry chapbook is Fractal Cut-Ups (Kattywompas). His art has been widely published in various online and print venues including IEEE Computer Graphics and Applications, Potion, Pure Francis, Third Wednesday, and USA Today. Please visit his blog to see more of his work Terry believes his sunrise can beat up yours.
note: text is excerpted from “The Worst Deadly Bank Account Number in the History of the Universe” which was printed in A.A. Hutchin’s and Joe Ambrose’s CUT UP! An Anthology Inspired by the Cut-Up Method of William S. Burroughs & Brion Gysin
for larger views of Terry Wright’s pieces (some featured here, some not) please click on the following clicks:
