Scene: phallus, guns, vaginas, and bike wheel done
sitting in his room, overlooking his collection of phalluses and ohter props.. wilth bottle of absinth drinking and playing ..
actors: aj
location: room,
props:
diagolgs:
takling to himself: (from VISIONS OF THE PRESENT AND THE FUTRE: - ON ThE PHYSICK STICK) green - rg blue randomlly taken and altered from messalina
AJ; overlooking all his collecitno of genitalias: this is motionless lascivity, devine obscenity, .... it makes me more pale then the color of the dog of a dice ..... I have a right to love them the most naked.. .. without the promiscuity of dress ... and by the way... these are reductions.. not enlargments of hte real thing
AJ: uprooted phallus, don't make such leaps and bounds! you are a wheel of which only the material element has continuous existence, the diameter of a circle whithout circumference creating a plane by its rotation about its median point. the substance of your diameter is a point. the line and its sweep are in our eyes. which are blinking before the green and gold rays of a palloid gas-lamp.
towarsd the wheel:
The cycle is a pleonasm (unnecessary accumulation of similar adjectives) : a wheel and the superfoetation (the building of a second foetus) of the prolonged parallelism of the cranks. the circle, once it is finished, falls into disuse. the straight line succeeds it, extending in both directions to infitinity
this means.. back to the physick stick .. stuffed like a turkey with perpetual motion food to win the race when it comes to their female equivalents.. which are loopholes to get lost in.. our infinite lines enter a downward spiral and .. how bizarre.. is swollen and swollowed by circling, encircling desires unworthy of names.
touching and playing wiht the orgnas..
la veille dame is crazy.... all these pathetic presents from her
r addressing himself to the dicsk:
You are holy, you are the burgeon, the emblem of generation or rather of spanonteous generation - vibrio and volvox (one of the sevon wonders of hte micro-world) , the gyroscopo scuccessive images of which reveal to our eyes, alas too pure, your scissiparity (splitting)- and your project the cerebral rice of our nacrous sperm far from terrestrial sexes.
(he pauses)
I believe in infinitie lines and repeat the unbeatable dogma: l'amour est un act sans importance, puisque on peut le faire indefiniment -- it is here that the linear rockn' rolli-phallic perpetual motion food engery meets with the cycling wheel and the gun shoot , the bulldog's kiss.
physick stick and bulldog guns:both erect their will as soverign law. they are mechanical and yet are only wound up again by sleeping , like animated beings.
there is no absinth left..
aj falls back and sleeps and whispers:
the formula of happiness - be amourous,and be mysterious
