Igor Clark

Once ‘again’, the temporal markers which the flow of possibly random yet seemingly somehow conjoined flickers of »SOMETHING EXISTS« which presents itself to me as ‘I’ has learned to recognise as representing a linear progression of occurrences through the structural map of happenstance this ‘I’ infers from the way things appear to it quite literally flew by (as, I understand, they are wont to do when fun is immanent), and soon, the me-thing (a) did a decision(b) about what it would do with a book(c), and then the decision made it do something right back; it(b) made it(a) do reading(d) on it(c). It also made things change in the world: suddenly, seeming - through moving ‘as if with voluntary power instinct’ - to be ‘like’ huge cliffs (but probably ‘actually’ not doing so, and so being even more like them than it had at first seemed, apart, obviously, from the whole being-really-massive-and-made-of-rock thing), wave upon wave of light bounced jauntily off the contrast of the ink and paper and each one jammed its being into ‘my’ brain, but their beings weren't what they had been any more; they brimmed with someone else's thinking-chunks. They'd got stuck on when the glancing off the meme-transmission device happened, and now they were inside the ‘I’ for sure, deffo, no messing. ‘OUCH’ I said, also ‘GET OFF’ and ‘EWWWW’ because my ‘I’ didn't want someone else's brain squirted all over the inside of its one; but actually it didn't feel like what the ‘I’ thought having someone else's brain smeared on it would do what ‘feeling’ felt like to it at all. It just made more things happen in the ‘I’. Well, let ‘me’ tell ‘you’, that was just fine with ‘me’. No argument ‘here’.