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forlesen

Marc Aramini · 11 Sep 2014, 01:52 · from 2014-September.txt.gz

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From: marcaramini at gmail.com (Marc Aramini)
Date: Wed, 10 Sep 2014 18:52:04 -0700
Subject: (urth)  forlesen
Message-ID: <CAF1072zbFETzD4i_8zBd0gQMFgF1yTV+8gH-cj7hmG9AgRDQ1w at mail.gmail.com>

sorry I was sending an attachment of a word document to finish working on
the write up and in my autopilot state I sent it to the urth list instead
of myself.

A big picture for Forlesen continues to elude me besides "work is hell" and
an empty exploration of a creativity problem in which actors run through
the motions of pointless working life on Earth.  Oil everywhere, Forlesen
finds a book detailing what he just went through with one word changed,
glass and mirrors do not show what they should, the cop is hooked up to his
cop car by tubes, the pillars holding up the road move, wild horses wind up
in a dog food factory ... the whole set is constantly under construction
like that one Theodore Sturgeon story where a guy accidentally sees the set
up for tomorrow in progress.  Forlesen thinks of his feet as shoes at
first, as if he has put on the flesh as a costume.

This is the only work of fiction written before 1987 that I feel there
might be no objective bottom to.
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