Lord Quag and Weird-Fiction, Fresh for 2011! You Suckers!
Dispatch from a Candid Canid
Dispatch (extracted from sympathetic canine pineal cache) reveals the minutia of our recent deliberative assembly on ficto-quizzical matters:
1) Inventory of residual media: vcrs, overhead, ed’s house of gems, video cameras
2) Vampling dialogically apprehended
3) Forecast of Electromagnetic Archeologist at known event-scene leaked in communique.
4) Murmurs of Message Boards
5) Exchange of emergent clogospheres including the soon to be inundated paper net
6) Ten minute intensive with Ryan Trecartin’s data bodies
7) Videographic trajectories projected through gem
Speculation on flows of capital, art and satellites
9) half hour screed on tactical media
10) Periodic treatise on masked or otherwise tasked interns
11) five-to-ten minute analysis of Oneida community
12) pizza or burritos lurking on the threshold
13) videographic trajectories projected on dog
14) Talking Tough about Time Management
15) Ween Marketing Diagnostics
16) Dog vies for attention, seeking official membership as an augmented reality
Post-It to Your Skull: Valentines, Earth A.D.
November 21, Portland, Earth. A memo, a post-it to your skull. Resting on gray matters and reminding or reviving one of 27 mental faculties as to how one might go about phrenologically enveloping the haunt of 232 SW Ankeny and the contents crawling forth in a few days hence!
(((WFT))) will be there, believing that to foretell the particular future that is destined to depart very soon coming to a close in the late hours of Sunday, twenty-first of the thirty days known to November, is to already belong to that future and to be there is only an after-image. Fear not, our after-images will be tended by humanoid familiars in occupying the nooks and crannies of the haunt, known as Valentines, that is huddled at 232 SW Ankeny.
Joined by denizens of Church No.9, and so expect a place within a space, a shadow out of time. Post it to your skull
In A Diagonal Way
Outlooks such as: “if it ain’t Baroque, don’t fix it,” will be backwards compatible only for so long, before shifting into the domain of a ‘patanamorphosis. This nascent neologism is, of course, simultaneously a grotesque ‘pataphysique and a wildstyle perspective awry.
“the eyesight is wrong, I guess if you were a vapor you could see it that way” to paraphrase N.Klein’s review of dirigibles over Paris and their curious representation in an outmoded parchment.
Simultaneously, a space-time transient danced delicately around the edges of this forgotten futurity, observing rightly that the dirigible is full of hot air. Pressing each node separately he was swallowed up by an angle of history which shouldn’t have been there; an angle which was acute, but behaved as if it were obtuse. He climbed interminably along the grotesque memetic moulding – that is, one would call it climbing if the thing was not after all metaphorical.
The ficto-quizzical move anomalously, in a diagonal way- that is, one would call it diagonal if atemporality hadn’t anachronized such delineations. Panopticondemned, such line segmentation can be salvaged amidst the info-mesh, or else what is a node without its link?
Twilight sleep leaves its victims without memories of conscious experiences, diminished reality is a somnambulistic AR code. For those marooned amidst liquid gulfs of modernity, clamoring for mirages of available isms, institutions or, in other words, internments, or better yet (intern)ships— consider Thaddeus S.C. Lowe’s noisome node, “City of New York” launched into the skies, activating leaps and bounds mentally, a teleprescient mode of data-visceralization, a wandering city. 
The vapor rising from the newly opened depths was intolerable, and at length the quick-eared will hear an echo of this network culturation that is, for lack of a better description, akin to a shadow economy’s share of derelict playback devices, aligned at the precipice of a search engineered port of entry to the abyss. From here a Reichian regime of phasing–out of time, space, scale–an emergent aura(l) complexity of rhythms as of yet unwanted or unknown.
Day For Night
Neither romantic nor friendly, former TV personality turned scotological extremist, Desmond Mawk frowns upon even the tiniest of phosphorescent creatures, muttering often about paradisical islands so light deprived as to be invisible, “hidden just so” or “blessed by that most chiascuro of fogs.” All told, Mawk finds the cities that never sleep are guilty of much, including complicity in the contemporary climate of “fun in the midnight sun.” A nocturnalist, in Mawk’s self-aggrandizing doublespeak, he mutters again. This time of the cinematic whimsies from his youth, of a time when shooting “day for night” was a problem puzzled in the wake of poorly planned film shoots, only.
Nocturnalism, a euphismistic counter point to the term “Scotological Extremism,” is concerning the interference of day for night in a broad context, and defended or motivated by a claim that sleep/wake cycles would be better served with diminished rather than augmented lucidities. The call of nocturnalism arises with respect to deregulation of light in many forms.
At the ficto-quizzical level it raises questions of how scotological extremists should be treated when they are less than fully rational.