LABYRINTH
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(1)
Henry reacted cheaply, and left the Euro-Americain continent for a hide-and-stay in the Australian Rainforest to start a filosofical war in his head that went beyond the wish to revenge dead people. It were the cultural icons that made him confess to Quanta, his always reactive neuro-linguistic speech computer, his electronical schyzo friend. Quanta mourned bad, understood little or nothing and she was a bad dripper, meaning she didn't speak out loud. Therefore Henry still very much preferred woman above robots in life. Yet in this case the human senses prooved to be bad in linguistic communicating, too. Kate didn't say a word at all. To discuss the world with Kate was impossible now, for like many others, Kate kept silent all the time. The topic was too mighty. She would fall flat on her face, she thought. And yet, what did it mean this B-movie world, What did it mean this idea that existed in at least 2 virtual or cultural versions befeore it became real. The similiarity might make a profile of the T. How to burst into the skulls that blow up the World Trade Center in New York, and the Pentagon in Washington? The police source in him got fully excited. What would happen to the underground culture now that the political upperpart had collapsed? Who had colided? And with wat? Anybody seen any ideas flying? NO! Yes! Was it done with or without intelligence. WITH! But, designed as a television event!? Was it done with Experience, not the software programme but the real fysical understanding of the word? Was the File or Codex of World War Two ready, was the proces counted, could a bad wave be turned?
Above the extra-ordinairy feelings stood his presidential. His focussing went up and down. That was his job. He did it like he fainted at home in some sauna. In honesty. It happened in His Air Plain Magazine that Henry reached his zenith, his spiritual ceiling, and he found the loss of truth, belief and faith worse than the knowledge of health and happyness. This had happened already in 1966, when the mass media was discovered and the concept of human culture intensified. In the meanwhile a cultural advertizement, a cultural Support Act, for no other then symbolical reason caught his eye
Ex Change/ a wind exchanged the color of the seed in the land. Now exchange artists and refresh local atmospheres. Save the world!
Henry had become too logical to accept the poetical or nonsense factor of language. He read like counting, and used the commonest written resource to make law. War had broken out, in the papers, and so he should master the ceremony, at least in his mind. To stay light, he personally wished for a reversed sensorship. King Henry would let the hidden intelectuals stream.
It was a period of powerful people, that were proud on their knowledge. Let it drip drip drip. Communication projects on the moon cover. Spoken interviews were top; the people were political. All was moving, and yet he felt nerveous enough to act like a refugee. A mood shift, Henry Kissinger less than I, can explain. He was glued to the news, on a level where all his knowledge could not explain why he detested the boards that printed the tears in the face of the president projected in an ECU. Of course there should be no intelligence in any picture, because war is con-and included in language. How else could it be really infective? This disaster designed for the bliss of mass media, it all...spliced him back into the old history. Henry wanted to get out. And yet was on his way to a meeting with the ennemy.
Stagnation in cultures is unbearable, one stops to be involved, one dies. He knew the poem of the poor. Knew the position of the whore, had belonged to the lucky generation, the ambassadors that created the world. Remember that Henry grew up in the thirties. And was almost hundred now. Of course he left dear Kate in her butterwhiteness, alone.
To create a disaster for no purpose, that would be intolerable. And also indeed depression should be cured. Anger must be accepted.
He sensed the need for a talk on eternity again, in a materialistic tent. Tent?
Was the memory still there? God, Allah, Europa, America...?! Henrys square mind ran over, he felt in a turn, being involved in this incident, as the top of this feuilleton, as the highest living on Earth. Henry explored the killer mind that strated the 'B-Moviefication of reality. Old patterns had started to emerge already. Finally kinetic energy damped of from the television channels.
Neurolinguistic stomach aches concerning the old family habit to spell every letter of every serious publisher, drove him out into a hot nothingness indeed no one should know off. He shall end like Ezra Pond, he shall have difficulty forgivving himself. Where had he lost track: wwhen at the age of 80 he started to learn snowboarding?
His mind was ruined after this marathon of disasters, knowing that he only needed some time off to restore his inner space. And so he felt blessed to be invited at the ESP (The European Space Center), the funky spot where he had picked up Kate. Kate had been invited for a photo shoot, playing - or was it miming or was it radiating - a young astronaut. She had been wearing a t-shirt saying "Echo Human". O life had been so easy before the towers fell in a silver white dust over...Henry's stomach ached, all of a sudden it became clear to him, why semiotic thinking was painful, and so how braveness hurted. Language dragged them through it all. Just for being afraid to give a bad performance, Henry fled. Henry Kissinger, the He man in our unimportant fantasy history, that seems to be written with a more than intelligent opinion/vision. If the text didn't turn away, all the time.
Kate was reading, or rather enjoying her own fysicallity. THe German television showed excellent advanced European art. A multi media opera adapted to television, with a briljant dramaturgy that chained outer expression to inner emotion, in a way that human knowledge was passed. All this happened over 2 time decors, in a romantic eternal couple, a male and a female both pre-medieval suffocating in their kinetic energy, and yet needing each other to dance.
Come on, Henry said to Quanta, let this be heared. LOve is truely needed! And that's why he liked to touch Kate. The world was a demented man.
To watch the terrible news from out a plastic airbagged tent it in the Amazone AbOriginal Bush, chewing fruits with some protected animals, including nice fotomodel Kate Moss, made him more than happy. Kiss me Kate, Henry whispered,and in the meanwhile pictured the growth of soldiers.
Henry didn't quite know how to retire, but seemed desperate to make the best out of it. Finally he could become human. For how long, no one knew. But his plans were to stay in holiday with Quanta for ever. Let the rest of the world fight, Kate, Henry lispeled. Kate however frowned seriously. She was wearing a t-shirt saying SOS, and she was with body and soul involved in the Australian feminist movement. She just lay there in a state that could be named jet legged, biologically ill, or sleeping. Her back ached, her stifness loosened. He body began to sling. Kate knew she would became grumpy, if she wouldn't move quickly soon.
But why Australia?
Henry was doing gymnastics in the sand, singing and shouting. Combinations that needed to be heared and seen by a computer called Quanta. Kate tried to follow and understand Henry. Later she would become independent. To universally utter is enough, she knew, to be helped by any kind of alien or institution, so even if Henry doesn't want me anymore I will know how to survive. What kind of humanity would the other power offer? This was a truely good question in any war system.
In the mean time she had to love her own combination. Would there be time to find out and share?
If only, she thought, if only I hadn't been so British, so limited like Tony Blair. Why didn't any bloody one SPEAK about the bloody cabbalist news. And so the ironical world they lived in. That had killed thousands of people in New York, and frightened at least the West Coast and Europa. What was to be learned? IRA fears? Poverty? Kate knew all these.
Kate had difficulty with the item. Rang a friend and discussed it.
I want a Media Mission in Europe through Asiatic Plot LInes, Quanta na Mera? You hear?
Henry massaged her ribs whilest he teased her ears. Maybe one day, one day she would wake up feeling her good old self, again.
Next Week:
" Squated Bar Closed Because Of Macro Cosmic Telephone Business in Europe/ Dangerous Software Needs The Voice Of a Real Engineer."
AFLEVERING 5
Wie beslist niet...!....?....!....?
AFLEVERING 4
To: "shunt"
Subject: ter keuze en vertier aangeboden ter redaxie door ANKE NOORMAN
De kennismaking met het lingeriemeisje ging Henry opvallend (lees: verdacht) gemakkelijk af. Met de verschijning van Pamela Andersom op billboards die het keurmerk droegen van sponsor H&M, was mogelijke vrees voor de Nieuw-Feminiene Krachten reeds bij introductie veilig geproportioneerd - tot het formaat dat nog past in de binnenzak van een colbertje. Terwijl aan de horizon van zijn voorstellingsvermogen Kissinger iets mompelde over consumptiebonnen, raakte Woody verstrikt in overpeinzingen rond het thema 'girlpower'. Een veel riskanter onderneming dan Henry's nietsverhullende pogingen het lingeriemeisje te bewegen haar titel later op de avond waar te maken. Waarschijnlijk niet geheel buiten de invloed van de Brut Imperial trok een bonte stoet amazones aan Woody's geestesoog voorbij. Aangevoerd door Anjelica Huston op inline skates, die uit volle borst leek te zingen. Om redenen hem onbekend was het geluid niet ingeschakeld. Nog voor Woody de tijd had zich af te vragen of Anjelica eigenlijk wel kòn zingen, werd hij teruggefluisterd naar deze, veel banaler werkelijkheid, door de Stem van Binnenlandse Zaken. In de Vormen van het lingeriemeisje. Ze keek hem aan alsof ze Kissinger zojuist als delicatesse had gepresenteerd aan een van de zwijgzame Zwitserse obers. Of hem had uitgeleverd aan een van de kleine en pijnlijk nauwkeurige elite-eenheden van het Libanese Bevrijdingsfront, die na jaren van training door de CIA ook hadden begrepen dat dit soort feestjes prima gelegenheden waren voor de fondswerving. Woody rilde. Vrees en dorst streden in hem om voorrang. Volgende maand: Het belang van de Swiss Railway Watch bij alle onderhandelingen in Genève, de liaison van het lingeriemeisje met Heather Locklear, en...... Nieuw Licht op de Grassy Knole!
nogmaals een aflevering 4 nu van Ingeborg Houwen
aflevering 4
Het VN feestje was bijna afgelopen, op een normale beschaafde manier, rond een normaal beschaafd tijdstip. Alleen voor de niet-gouvernementele, losdolende, artistieke beroepen uitoefenende misfits - zoals Kate Moss en Woody Allen - moest de avond nog beginnen. Kate draaide rondjes op haar rolschaatsen en goot zichzelf vol met Brut Imperial, ter stimulering van haar wiskundeknobbel. `Zaken gaan voor het meisje,' zong zij, `Dus ik ben geen meisje. Of het Ministerie van Buitenlandse Zaken doet geen zaken.' Woody Allen hield haar enkels vast en beeldde zich in gestraft te worden op een traditionele Yankee manier. In het stof bijtend. Henry Kissinger liep naar de lift, bang ineens voor het Duizend Jarig Rijk van de Macrobioten.
volgende keer: what's up in Cyber Tokio?
Aflevering 1: Beginregel zie archief
AFLEVERING 2 zie archief
AFLEVERING 3
111
woorden
Op een feestje van de
Verenigde Naties, achter Henry's rug om, zag zij Woody wandelen, pratend
met een handgewoven tapijt van lokale kunstnijverheid.
'Wat zoek je, Woody,' vroeg zij scherp.
`Sociale sollidariteit in de communistische gemeenschap,' antwoordde Woody.
Op dat moment was zij blij dat haar haar niet platina geverfd was, maar
goud.
`Bekende Nederlander!'
zei Woody, en toen riep hij Henry.
Henry kleurde.
`Het lingerie
meisjes, door het Ministerie van Binnenlandse Zaken aangetrokken om girlpower
op te wekken!'
(Volgende maand: Kate Moss begraaft Henry Kissinger en stapt uit de serie)
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