READING WHILE WRITING WHILE LISTENING (# 74,984)

is not easy. Have a go. I did. Here is my failure.

B. S. JOHNSON WHILE PETER KIRBY WHILE SIGUR ROS

PAPER WHILE TITANIUM WHILE VINYL

FAILURE WHILE TIPTOE WHILE EXPLORATION

Joyce wrote a wobble so rapid that his top lip shuddered for a full five seconds after the removal of his forefinger and its symbol roll.

Echo of a motorbike ridden by a mosquito with a sore throat and an ever-accelerating swallow until it rhythms out into a backwards slipping prayer for ice.

Storytelling must make effort to flatearth, with short economical lyrics, able to take us inside a mind with interior monologue to the pace of a string section implanted to a volume control that suddenly stops shy of a voice.

Pour one book out into a keyboard and let it settle to the beat of an Icelandic orchestra. The point is not to tell a story but to make reading a less obvious ride, something to massage and enthral and scare and cheer and awaken.

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