“It’s highly likely that everyone will just die.” Sep Commander Clytemnestro once noted: “There are too few echelons”
Upper, lower, reflections on the water. Replicant understanding is a two way mirror.” The Universal Separatist Question is not about Side to Side or even Corner to Corner.
The Universal Separatist Formula is a Diagonal Echelon that cuts through the Mirror in a Diamond Pattern. The etching of the line along the surface of the mirror does not have to cut deep to be visible. a delicate interruption in the appearance is most precise and effective.
Squadron elemental unit, Sep Commander Clytemnestro, lots of static as he dictates to his computer:
- I don’t agree with you about anything
- I don’t feel connected to you
- I don’t know you anymore
- I don’t think i ever knew you
- I don’t want to be here, among you
- I don’t need this anymore
- I need to go away
- I need to go far way
- I need to forget about all of the people and things my eyes see
- I only want to see animals
- I only want to be with animals
- I only want to be alone with animals
- I only want to live among the animals
- I only want to be killed by animals
- And animals do not exist anymore
- If a person killed me I would be incredibly angry
- If a machine killed me I would feel cheated and angry at the people who made it
- If a bear killed me I would be excited
- If a person killed me I would be crying, and so angry
- I don’t want to be provoked into doing any more damage
Little did he know, as he mused over various directives, that the cryogenic suspension pods were malfunctioning, and the universal separatist manifesto would never, ever be written.
“never stand in line; just leave.”
“if it can be named, it doesn’t exist.”
“don’t even try.”
The Squadron Elemental Unit tested these “aphorisms” in the spreadsheet of his imagination as he died.
Last night we rehearsed for the first time with Paul Heyer, a painter from New York, in the role of Taliban. He’s a natural.
8. SCENE: FLASHBACK – INTERROGATION ROOM
The death of an Australian boy-bander: Bammer Ramsey, 33, he was in his home, he was on the couch. His body was found, on the couch, by a houseguest who is described in the press as an “immigrant night clubber” named Taliban.
Tell us what you saw.
I was in the bathroom with the tall guy and we left the short redhead was on the couch with his pants down but his underwear was still on last I saw. They had picked me up at a club by the beach and I could tell from their watches that they had money and they were babes, for the most part. The tall guy sucked on my dick for a while, to get it hard, and then he sent me, naked and only 25-years old, into the living room to see if the other guy wanted to join us, or if he was asleep, which he at first appeared to be, on the couch, staring at the sunrise. I touched his face with my penis. His cheek was cold.
Stop lying. You killed him.
You put a chemical agent on the tip of your dick. Admit it and we’ll cut a deal.
That’s crazy. I tried to revive him but I couldn’t.
Marks on the deceased’s chest back you up.
The tall dude was all over me and he didn’t die. You should talk to him.
Your alibi is missing.
I went into the bathroom but the big guy was gone.
Like he teleported or evaporated?
You’re in a lot of trouble here, kid.
Since when do you care about enemies of the state?
So you knew who they were?
I have good taste in music.
Were you a member of the boy band too?
I’m being framed.
OK, Taliban. Enough games.
I suppose you have a theory.
He was at his beach view home, with the man he loved and someone cute they picked up. He was buzzing from a night of champagne and coke. He was tired; he had used all his energy on the dance floor. He sat there, anticipating the three-way that had been orchestrated by his naughty husband. He put his fingers between the elastic of his underwear and his stomach. He felt like he was drowning in tears of gratitude. Then he felt nothing.
Nice story. Now tell us the truth.
I want my lawyer.
He lawyered up.
Let him sit on ice for a while.
JAIL DOORS CLOSE ON TALIBAN.
Coroner’s report in.
Cause of death: pulmonary oedema, i.e. natural causes. Hypothesis: he died of contentedness.
Can you die from that?
It’s a new weapon developed by the Governor’s secret police.
Oh. Case closed.
BEEP BEEP BEEP.
Saint Alexius is the subject of the Baroque opera Il Sant’Alessio commissioned by Maffeo Barberini, a.k.a Pope Urban VIII, in Rome in 1631. The opera, by Stefano Landi and Rospigliosi, tells the story of a 5th Century pilgrim, scion of a wealthy Aventine family, who leaves his wife on their wedding night, to follow god, to become a celebrated visionary in Syria, only to return to Rome, where he is is taken into his father’s home, because he looks so changed that no one, not even his grieving wife and mother, can recognize him, dressed as a pauper, so he lives under the stairs of his family home, while the whole family and servants are looking for him, and the only person who sees him is the devil, il Demonio, who tells him to reveal himslef to his family, and the angels, played by young boys, who tell Alexius that he will be a saint if he just dies under the stairs, which is what he does, only to be discovered by the family, who read a letter crumpled in the corpse’s dead hand, causing a dramatic scene over his dead body, before it is borne away and the personification of Religione leads the angels everyone in a song and the opera ends. Saint Alexius is an Eastern saint who has since been expelled from the Catholic canon.
In the play, there is a lot of high voiced singing. In the Baroque period, the Italian stage did not allow women on stage, so Alexius, his mother, his wife, several of his friends, the nurse and the servant would all have been played by castrati. In recent productions, Il Sant’Alessio was performed with sopranos playing men, or countertenors playing women. Either way, there is some major gayness. The Barberini were a family of powerful cardinals and popes…
So, obviously, Saint Alexius, who was expelled from the Catholic canon, is the patron saint of this blog.