The Unknown: The Green Line.


the unknown
i’ve thought of a few titles
all my unknown poem titles are fairly doomlike
for example
the last dance of the unknown


the unknown’s last dance


the end of the tour


the end of the tour
well you get the picture
it’s not that i’m pessimistic
just that i’m dramatic

The Unknown reading in Atlanta may be webcast although it is admittedly unlikely as it has been scheduled during the panel called "The Future(s) of Narrative" which is no doubt more urgent. I mean, which would you go to if you were truly striving to cut the edge: the future of narrative or the present. Let’s be reasonable.
Besides, this is an international conference of people with really intense websites, and I’m afraid some of the Norwegian digital animation artists won’t get into our encyclopedic hypertext novel or my rap song about the Reagan Administration.
Regardless. Robert ("Bob") Coover and a couple of other interesting people (one hopes) will be there. And I’m going to ask Michael Joyce to autograph my handheld Windows CE system LG Phenom ("sugar") with an indelible felt tip I have been saving for just the proper occasion.
I wish I could go to one of these things with all of the Unknown and Newspoetry sometime. They would give us a floor of a hotel. Mike would drive. We’d buy a schoolbus and paint it all psychedelic. We’d tool down I-74 to Dirk’s house cranking Ani or Public Enemy. Cops would take one look at us and feel too tired to pull us over. We’d fill up the hotel bar and we’d each order the weirdest drink we could think of—a vegan Kahlua and creme, something blue, something on fire in a coconut. A Virgin Bloody Mary. An Income Tax Cocktail.
In closing, I think we can all learn something from the Future(s) of Narrative.


William and Scott talk to the Marriott Bartender 2: Bob Coover, Renaissance Man

sickening decadent hypertext novel META fiction al bull shit sort of a doc ument ary corr e spond ence art is cool look at art live read ings