Vision Rendering
How did you sleep?
Virginia asked Walt:
Did you dream?
At first Walt was speechless
as if he were lost in the zone
although what zone was still
to be determined
Yes
he paused for a few seconds
while Virginia held her breath
I was in a completely other posture
Walt tried to articulate
the body's acquiescence to its new-found
state of purposeless play:
And by that I mean that my orientation
was bodily distorted while tunneling
through an image space that was like
being inside a computer as it ripped
the contents of a DVD
I was drowning in the speed of these images
The phrase rocket-launched snorkeling comes to mind
It was a kind of underworld of images
so far removed from what we think of as
the human imagination imagining itself imagine
images
that what I saw was not really even
a matter of light nor memory
All I can really remember is the speed
And the body contortion
Or not even that since I no longer really had a body
Maybe you could say I was nothing but speed
But then that speed would alter and I would become
What is the word?
-- a floating point of reference?
I would just hang in the balance
a suspended entity refueling
for the next inevitable take off
Which is to say I was not straight up
nor was I on my back or side
or rolling or jumping or even
physically entangled with someone else
like you
Like me
said Virginia
Exactly
I had no back or sides
but had become sheer topological vector
shape-shifting through the alter time
Not even you were sharing
this angled looping through space
that was not quite slow motion
nor was it rapid chute motion
as if accelerating in any particular direction
It was like sliding sideways
in what from afar would be seen
as a confused state of motor deficiency
assuming there was a body
that could reveal its degenerative state
which there wasn't
This makes perfect sense to me
because if you look at the agility of
a lighter than life crab
skating hatch marks across the surface of
a sandy beach that never ends
you'll see how it too comes across confused
but is actually quite nimble
in its nonsequitur of motion
But there is no deficiency (Virginia pointed
this out as if to rule over Walt's illogic)
And it was not just my vector
(Walt kept on as if she had not said a word)
skating and shushing and chuting
through these parallel universes
while shape-shifting through the alter time
It was the angular trajectory of
an autohallucinatory sensorium
reaching epic escape velocity
caught in the blink of an I
one that corrupted all of my senses
to the point where one never knew
what season it was they were rushing through
Was it summer in Hawaii?
Snowy winter in Colorado?
Iceberg tentacles of invisible fall
picking up signals from a burning spring
Down Under?
Seasonal affective disorder
or systemic derangement of the senses?
It no longer mattered as I had
without even thinking about it
escaped the matter world altogether
No either/or or and/and
but the pure impulse of impact convergence
while spilling forth raw value points
along an improvised plotting of
wishful yet clearly emerging trend lines
And the things I saw while experiencing
the dramatic disambiguation of everything
that had heretofore grounded me in perpetual push-pull
were not ordinary
Yet even as they appeared totally other
and not part of this image world
I noticed something strange
(and here was when Walt started
doing something that had become
a recent habit namely he began
slowly massaging his thumbs
with his forefingers
as if suggesting the coming of money
or the residue of some dirty emulsion
that had suddenly seeped out of his skin)
They tasted like food
Food said Virginia
Yes said Walt
Food
These way beyond images tasted like food
But not food as sustenance rather food as aesthetic rapture
Something that fed my motion
The fuel of my imaginary trajectory
telemarking through proprioception fields
that were not downhill
nor were they uphill
They were simply paths
Trails that I intuitively floated through
while caught in the orgasm of aesthetic rapture
Floated said Virginia
as she turned the palm of her hand toward Walt
whereupon he saw the sign of her hand
maneuver its way in his vicinity
and flicker as in flutter
He saw her hand as a metacarpal butterfly
a skinflick of potential light motion
that would take hold of him like a stick shift
and churn his magnitude into a higher gear
so that he would once again teleport
He felt the shape-shifting vector he had become
begin to change its speed once again
as if she were now operating his propulsion
through the random flesh encounters
he was clearly still plowing through
The revelation suddenly hit him that
he had never really left the dream
and their conversation had
like the perpetual image machine
he was time-traveling through
always been a part of it
As he felt himself head into what
he imagined was the aesthetic equivalent of
Total Breakthrough Warp Drive
he knew that even this feeling would soon become elusive
He realized he never wanted to wake up again
nor did he want to disappear
in the unreliable space of the quantum vacuum
The in-and-out states of presence
he had thoroughly investigated
in his last major work of art
were meant to be left in the dust
and so there was no reason to offer
any concrete articulation for why
he was experiencing what he was experiencing
There was no question in his mind
that these oscillating states of
mixed reality presence
were part of that other
discourse network
the one he was untethering himself from
as a way to discover what came next
What he was entering now
was another dimension of becoming
even as Virginia playfully
put on the brakes and suspended his motion
so that he felt like he was once again
totally above it all
hanging in the balance
an entrapped-tease artist
floating in mid-air
photographed for the historical archive
his memory was slowly leaking
Was it pure madness?
If you want to create paths
Virginia said
you should not spurn madness
since it makes up such a great part of your nature
These were words that vibrated
deep inside his vision rendering
Vision Rendering...
It was like a computer dialogue box
in a cosmic sci-fi novel
about the second coming of Art
But this was no epiphany
he was having
Walt was simply dreaming
And in the dream
he and Virginia were chattering
as they always did
about the creative process
which then led to a meta-state
where they discussed the dream itself
in lucid detail
Details Forthcoming...
another dialogue box would purport
to know what was happening
while the processing units
kept pace with their awakening
Walt kept floating
Metadata: dreaming, awakening, processing, oscillating
Virginia asked Walt:
Did you dream?
At first Walt was speechless
as if he were lost in the zone
although what zone was still
to be determined
Yes
he paused for a few seconds
while Virginia held her breath
I was in a completely other posture
Walt tried to articulate
the body's acquiescence to its new-found
state of purposeless play:
And by that I mean that my orientation
was bodily distorted while tunneling
through an image space that was like
being inside a computer as it ripped
the contents of a DVD
I was drowning in the speed of these images
The phrase rocket-launched snorkeling comes to mind
It was a kind of underworld of images
so far removed from what we think of as
the human imagination imagining itself imagine
images
that what I saw was not really even
a matter of light nor memory
All I can really remember is the speed
And the body contortion
Or not even that since I no longer really had a body
Maybe you could say I was nothing but speed
But then that speed would alter and I would become
What is the word?
-- a floating point of reference?
I would just hang in the balance
a suspended entity refueling
for the next inevitable take off
Which is to say I was not straight up
nor was I on my back or side
or rolling or jumping or even
physically entangled with someone else
like you
Like me
said Virginia
Exactly
I had no back or sides
but had become sheer topological vector
shape-shifting through the alter time
Not even you were sharing
this angled looping through space
that was not quite slow motion
nor was it rapid chute motion
as if accelerating in any particular direction
It was like sliding sideways
in what from afar would be seen
as a confused state of motor deficiency
assuming there was a body
that could reveal its degenerative state
which there wasn't
This makes perfect sense to me
because if you look at the agility of
a lighter than life crab
skating hatch marks across the surface of
a sandy beach that never ends
you'll see how it too comes across confused
but is actually quite nimble
in its nonsequitur of motion
But there is no deficiency (Virginia pointed
this out as if to rule over Walt's illogic)
And it was not just my vector
(Walt kept on as if she had not said a word)
skating and shushing and chuting
through these parallel universes
while shape-shifting through the alter time
It was the angular trajectory of
an autohallucinatory sensorium
reaching epic escape velocity
caught in the blink of an I
one that corrupted all of my senses
to the point where one never knew
what season it was they were rushing through
Was it summer in Hawaii?
Snowy winter in Colorado?
Iceberg tentacles of invisible fall
picking up signals from a burning spring
Down Under?
Seasonal affective disorder
or systemic derangement of the senses?
It no longer mattered as I had
without even thinking about it
escaped the matter world altogether
No either/or or and/and
but the pure impulse of impact convergence
while spilling forth raw value points
along an improvised plotting of
wishful yet clearly emerging trend lines
And the things I saw while experiencing
the dramatic disambiguation of everything
that had heretofore grounded me in perpetual push-pull
were not ordinary
Yet even as they appeared totally other
and not part of this image world
I noticed something strange
(and here was when Walt started
doing something that had become
a recent habit namely he began
slowly massaging his thumbs
with his forefingers
as if suggesting the coming of money
or the residue of some dirty emulsion
that had suddenly seeped out of his skin)
They tasted like food
Food said Virginia
Yes said Walt
Food
These way beyond images tasted like food
But not food as sustenance rather food as aesthetic rapture
Something that fed my motion
The fuel of my imaginary trajectory
telemarking through proprioception fields
that were not downhill
nor were they uphill
They were simply paths
Trails that I intuitively floated through
while caught in the orgasm of aesthetic rapture
Floated said Virginia
as she turned the palm of her hand toward Walt
whereupon he saw the sign of her hand
maneuver its way in his vicinity
and flicker as in flutter
He saw her hand as a metacarpal butterfly
a skinflick of potential light motion
that would take hold of him like a stick shift
and churn his magnitude into a higher gear
so that he would once again teleport
He felt the shape-shifting vector he had become
begin to change its speed once again
as if she were now operating his propulsion
through the random flesh encounters
he was clearly still plowing through
The revelation suddenly hit him that
he had never really left the dream
and their conversation had
like the perpetual image machine
he was time-traveling through
always been a part of it
As he felt himself head into what
he imagined was the aesthetic equivalent of
Total Breakthrough Warp Drive
he knew that even this feeling would soon become elusive
He realized he never wanted to wake up again
nor did he want to disappear
in the unreliable space of the quantum vacuum
The in-and-out states of presence
he had thoroughly investigated
in his last major work of art
were meant to be left in the dust
and so there was no reason to offer
any concrete articulation for why
he was experiencing what he was experiencing
There was no question in his mind
that these oscillating states of
mixed reality presence
were part of that other
discourse network
the one he was untethering himself from
as a way to discover what came next
What he was entering now
was another dimension of becoming
even as Virginia playfully
put on the brakes and suspended his motion
so that he felt like he was once again
totally above it all
hanging in the balance
an entrapped-tease artist
floating in mid-air
photographed for the historical archive
his memory was slowly leaking
Was it pure madness?
If you want to create paths
Virginia said
you should not spurn madness
since it makes up such a great part of your nature
These were words that vibrated
deep inside his vision rendering
Vision Rendering...
It was like a computer dialogue box
in a cosmic sci-fi novel
about the second coming of Art
But this was no epiphany
he was having
Walt was simply dreaming
And in the dream
he and Virginia were chattering
as they always did
about the creative process
which then led to a meta-state
where they discussed the dream itself
in lucid detail
Details Forthcoming...
another dialogue box would purport
to know what was happening
while the processing units
kept pace with their awakening
Walt kept floating
Metadata: dreaming, awakening, processing, oscillating
posted by Professor VJ at 7:21 PM
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