societies consumption

Voice A: Stepping out.

Voice B: Again?

Voice A: Outside the myriad shapes of forms.

Voice B: Why must you be so cryptic? You're not a genius you know.

Voice A: Outside the formed opinions of those that must be kept.

Voice B: But you are an asshole.

Voice A: Aware.

Voice B: Well at least you can grasp that concept.

Voice A: Hardly.

Voice B: And the asshole moniker fits like a glove.

Voice A: It's hardly the point given the situation.

Voice B: What is the situation exactly?

Voice A: Do you disagree? Please, if you do, tell me your thoughts.

Voice B: My thoughts are that you should patiently wait for an answer before answering it your fucking self.

Voice A: Any other angle besides my extremely fixed one would be welcome with open arms.

Voice B: Given your childlike abandoment of having a normal converstation I think I am justified by asking what you what exact angle are you talking about?

Voice A: Armed with the knowledge of what can not be seen.

Voice B: The unseen? What kind response can I give? It is all subjective.

Voice A: By me.

Voice B: Most likely. Whats your objective?

Voice A: Or you?

Voice B: Well if it was my question, then yes, of course.

Voice A: Where was I actually headed as I stepped out outside the box?

Voice B: To a location unbeknownst to me. You love that whole inner-turmoil persona don't you?

Voice A: The box.

Voice B: never heard of the place.

Voice A: There are so many names associated with it and, for prosperities sake, I choose the box.

Voice B: So you still won't tell me where you are headed? Asshole.

Voice A: It portrays a certain hopefulness I require when venturing out and into the World Unknown.

Voice B: Are you going to buy some porn or something?

Voice A: The World Uncertain.

Voice B: Well it does come in a black bag but I am certain about that world. Pervert.

Voice A: I never was one for gambling.

Voice B: That's why we've never been to Vegas?

Voice A: I was headed towards a mass of shapes.

Voice B: Ha! She was that gross huh?

Voice A: Something my periphral vision deemed to be the correct path.

Voice B: I am not one to judge you. We've all broke our mirrors.

Voice A: The path of the righteous man is beset upon all sides with the tyranny of evil men.

Voice B: And ugly bitches.

Voice A: The evil man is your own ego.

Voice B: I am not the one finding a mass of shapes at the local spank emporium.

Voice A: The evil man has a heart and soul.

Voice B: I do when it comes to what you may or may not be bringing home.

Voice A: He had a mother.

Voice B: So you are bringing home a guy?

Voice A: He was a baby at one point in the past.

Voice B: You don't say? I assumed he was born old and worked his way young.

Voice A: You might have loved him.

Voice B: Maybe in my gay past life.

Voice A: He is not an insect in human form.

Voice B: Did I say anthing about gay bugs? Not once.

Voice A: This man is a living breathing human.

Voice B: A gay one maybe.

Voice A: He has been processed and bottled and labeled for societies consumption.

Voice B: Not my consumption. That's your disfunction junction.

Voice A: I guess his brand has expired.

Voice B: I am just going to agree with you. Will that make this easier?

Voice A: No person seems to enjoy his taste these days.

Voice B: That is so disgusting.

Voice A: We serve him to the Gods.

Voice B: He is a rainbow slurpee.

Voice A: They will drink anything.

Voice B: And by anything you mean sperm.

Voice A: And they have been drinking anything since the first knee fell into the earths rich soil.

Voice B: There was open homosexuality in the biblical days.

Voice A: This is the big trade off.

Voice B: One mans butthole is another mans vagina.

Voice A: Sacrifice is no longer required.

Voice B: No it's not required... as long as you don't live in the south.

Voice A: Our Gods are no longer hungry Gods and the celestial plate is full.

Voice B: Big Gay Gods. It all makes sense now!

Voice A: Amusing how the box loses all edges once a person is at an adequate distance.

Voice B: No matter how far from it I get, a box is always a box.

Voice A: The box is now a bubble; a soap bubble if you will.

Voice B: I won't.

Voice A: Full of color and shapes, ever-changing, always manipulating one color into another.

Voice B: So you are going interracial too? A real go-getter you are.

Voice A: It is a complicated yet inane process.

Voice B: Besides all my jokes, I really am interested in this process.

Voice A: It is the boxes technique for survival.

Voice B: Okay. Survival of the fittest?

Voice A: Who is to question that?

Voice B: I am. Specifically when faced with such an obscure question.

Voice A: I accept this truth for whatever it is and move on.

Voice B: Your Truth may be different than mine.

Voice A: My arms swinging in harmonic opposition of my legs.

Voice B: And your brain sits precariously neutral some place inbetween.

Voice A: What a well thought out process of give and take.

Voice B: I see an error in the system.

Voice A: Ebb and flow.

Voice B: Bull and shit.

Voice A: This and that.

Voice B: Completely and retarded.

Voice A: I let my machine wiggle me to the corner street beside the Church that Hitler built.

Voice B: Today I heard some one say that Hitler was a good man.

Voice A: Oppression saves lives.

Voice B: It didn't save his own.

Voice A: Control promotes well being.

Voice B: My being well denotes a certain lack of it.

Voice A: It is all perspective.

Voice B: It's definitely all in the way you look at it.





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This was an accidental experiment created to try and find a true source of original dialogue. Something purely ethereal and not premeditated. It's in the roughest form but I think I already like the basic formula. Scanner Darklys emphasis on the left and right hemisphere of the brain working seperate of each other is why (in complete and amused retrospect) I wrote this out the way I did. I started as I normally would start writing: no topics in mind. Nothing exiting ahead of the next letter being typed. Real Time Writing is what I call it, or RTW.

Voice A's portion of the dialogue was the first bit I wrote out entirely. I didnt know at the time that I would be including another voice to the recipe. When I ran out of Voice A monolouge I instantly started answering with Voice B, keeping a careful reminder not to read ahead of the present dialogue presented to that character. I didn't edit a single word either. I thought this was fairly important needing a constant as well as variable (no matter how one sided it still came across). For Voice B and myself it was the first time we had ever had this conversation. I know it comes across as strained and confusing mostly. I also had this feeling while talking with Voice A. I plan to perfect this exercise of mine and hopefully gain a better knowledge of where I am heading. Next time I might step it up and include actions with my dialogue.

If you have actually gotten this far then I must say Thanks for reading. It was hard enough for me to not quit half way through. Please don't hate me for the consistant inconsistancies but there is no filter in my head. I is me is Jbee. Now I feel bad about putting you through this. I am going to give you a little something I told myself I wouldn't. It might ruin it for you but hey, it's not like you will ever (ever ever) read this again. Love ya bitches.



Stepping out. Outside the myriad shapes of forms. Outside the formed opinions of those that must be kept. Aware. Hardly. It's hardly the point given the situation. Do you disagree? Please, if you do, tell me your thoughts. Any other angle besides my extremely fixed one would be welcome with open arms. Armed with the knowledge of what can not be seen. By me. Or you? Where was I actually headed as I stepped out outside the box? The box. There are so many names associated with it and, for prosperities sake, I choose the box. It portrays a certain hopefulness I require when venturing out and into the World Unknown. The World Uncertain. I never was one for gambling. I was headed towards a mass of shapes. Something my periphral vision deemed to be the correct path. The path of the righteous man is beset upon all sides with the tyranny of evil men. The evil man is your own ego. The evil man has a heart and soul. He had a mother. He was a baby at one point in the past. You might have loved him. He is not an insect in human form. This man is a living breathing human. He has been processed and bottled and labeled for societies consumption. I guess his brand has expired. No person seems to enjoy his taste these days. We serve him to the Gods. They will drink anything. And they have been drinking anything since the first knee fell into the earths rich soil. This is the big trade off. Sacrifice is no longer required. Our Gods are no longer hungry Gods and the celestial plate is full. Amusing how the box loses all edges once a person is at an adequate distance. The box is now a bubble; a soap bubble if you will. Full of color and shapes, ever-changing, always manipulating one color into another. It is a complicated yet inane process. It is the boxes technique for survival. Who is to question that? I accept this truth for whatever it is and move on. My arms swinging in harmonic opposition of my legs. What a well thought out process of give and take. Ebb and flow. This and that. I let my machine wiggle me to the corner street beside the Church that Hitler built. Oppression saves lives. Control promotes well being. It is all perspective.