{"id":30,"date":"2015-10-31T03:46:00","date_gmt":"2015-10-31T07:46:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/?p=30"},"modified":"2021-03-23T02:38:49","modified_gmt":"2021-03-23T06:38:49","slug":"flight","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/?p=30","title":{"rendered":"FLIGHT"},"content":{"rendered":"

In the street I feel very unsafe, frightened. Killer Angels roam the streets. With me is a small boy, I am here to protect him. He says nothing, he too is scared, and huddles against me. I mean to comfort him, but I tremble. The streets are so unsafe.
\nI press hard at the doorbell. My keys do not seem to fit into the lock, I do not know if this is because I am nervous or because the locks have been changed. Thank god when Paul comes to the door. Or may be not, I don\u2019t know what has happened\u2014 his face is harsh, indifferent, unknowing, through the metal gate. He says-<\/span><\/p>\n


\nWho are you and what do you want? What is your business here…
\nWho are you and what do you want? What is your business here…
\nWho are you and what do you want? What is your business here…
\nWho are you and what do you want? What is your business here…
\nWho are you and what do you want? What is your business here…<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI start screaming, Paul what is going on, it\u2019s me\u2014 open the fucking door, don\u2019t leave me out here on the street \u2014 Paul what is this, it\u2019s me open the door\u2014
\nWhat is going on, es-tu Paul, Angelos?
\nAnd then he stops suddenly and opens the gate and hugs me\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nHey, I\u2019m glad to see you,<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI understand in that moment the interior constitution of Angels. They are allergic to repetition. A pattern repeated over several times creates a glitch in their internal syntax. It dismantles their operations temporarily. A momentary setback. This was the anti-subjectivity glitch installed by their Creators. Angels will never know meaning, memory or repetition. No past, only the present and no future.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nInside, there are a lot of us sort of huddled in small groups around computer texts, with low lights, turntables with headphones, or just like me reading the papers with coffee, smoking hash. Paul sits nearby clicking something morse code-like on a deck. And the young boy clings fast to me, I tell him its all right, but is it? We are not completely relaxed, there is edginess surround. Safety in numbers\u2014 and repetition. The music, ambient and trance-like repeats itself in tonality and cadence. Even our jokes are based on the irony of our survival, they no longer contain punch lines or set-ups. We say things like please be seated please be seated please be seated please be seated\u2014 and then everyone cracks up and laughs, but in an eerily repetitive manner,<\/span><\/p>\n


\nHeh,
\nHeh, Heh
\nHeh, Heh, Heh
\nHeh, Heh
\nHeh
\nHeh, Heh
\nHeh, Heh, Heh
\nHeh, Heh\u2014
\nand then a loud
\nHa!
\n\u2014to punctuate it.<\/span><\/p>\n


\nEvery now and then, down the hallway someone approaches the mailbox and starts some sort of activity. Then Paul or someone else walks over to accost them\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nWho are you and what are you doing, what is your business here?
\nWho are you and what are you doing, what is your business here?
\nWho are you and what are you doing, what is your business here?
\nWho are you and what are you doing, what is your business here?
\nWho are you and what are you doing, what is your business here?\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nAnd then the person walks away, we are left with these small explosive gadgets to detonate under thirty seconds. Swiftly I set up the CD-Rom to descramble them. Angel codes are constructions riddled and complex. They are the accidence of infinite invention, for Angels must not repeat themselves or a pattern at the risk of shutdown. To descramble Angel code, is to become Angel. Discard past and future, only now. Only Now, Only Now, Only Now. As I become Angel, humanity flakes away, I fall into the pleasure of micro-electric ecstasy, fluid form I melt I dive I no longer am me(?) what is that, electric, ec-static switch glitch, ditch that line, flux\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI am a girl
\nI look like a pearl
\nI am a swirl
\nI dance for an earl for I am a spear
\nburning my fuse
\nI am a twirl, I am unhinged
\nI am a flux
\nI am a puff…<\/span><\/p>\n


\nThirty seconds to detonate the device or else there is an explosion and every living thing within a 500 meter radius dies
\nor
\nthe descrambler encounters with the device. The syntax of it creeps into the nervous system of the descrambler, like a fever. The descrambler becomes Angel\u2014 but only for a few hours. The human body is based on rhythms and repetitions, it has no resistance to the endless flux of the Angel mind. The Angel body, steel and synthetic, can maintain an outward appearance and is indestructible; the human body is something else. When something vaster possesses it, it enters the realm of fable and dies.<\/span><\/p>\n


\nSomeone slaps me hard repeatedly, a hard steady rhythm\u2014 I hear my name
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nI don\u2019t want it, don\u2019t, no, \u2014
\nI am the sea but I am sand but I am
\nsun
\na whale
\nthe tail,
\nof a comet
\nwhizzing
\npast stars
\nI\u2019m the planet Mars\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nThe slapping is harder, steady\u2014 somewhere on the planet, blood streams from my nose\u2014
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9
\nOnom\u00e9<\/span><\/p>\n


\nPlease let me be, the pattern is suffocating, stop the repetition\u2014pleeeeeeease
\nI am a shoal
\nof bright glassy
\nwindsaaaaaaaaaaaaailllllllllllllllllll\u2014\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nBlack out. I hear the little boy crying.
\nI come to. Paul says\u2014
\nWe nearly lost you there for a moment. Maybe you should take a break from descrambling\u2014
\nSomeone pours me a cup of coffee. I have the lethal after taste of bullet bite. The music comforting: trance-like, ambient. Something buzzes impatiently beneath my skin.
\nWas I really far gone? I ask.
\nApparently.
\nI am sad because I have no memory of the dive, but only regret in my body, as if it had relinquished a lover. The little boy clings tighter to me, he is still sobbing, its okay, I\u2019m still here, I won\u2019t leave you.
\nBut I want to.
\nSomeone is down by the mailbox in the hallway again. I feel a certain longing
\nI\u2019ll go, I\u2019ll deal with it \u2014 I say
\nPaul gives me a strange look, he says
\nNo. You stay here\u2014
\nBut even before he completes the sentence, I am flying down the hallway. the little boy is screaming.
\nThe Angel stares me in the eye, I want to say\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nWho are you please go away<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI want to say it five six seven times with a hard confident steady rhythm. I cannot. I merely say\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nwho?
\nwho?
\nwho?<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI can barely hear myself, even to whisper is painful, the repetition hurts…
\nThe Angel smirk-belches demonic laughter: only a split second that is infinity. Then he hands me the device. He says\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nYou are Angel<\/span><\/p>\n


\nSomeone yells\u2014
\nStop her!
\nBut I am already out on the street, running, my little boy screaming at my side\u2014 They pursue but they will never catch me. I am a creature that morphs, I am a creature that flies, I am a creature-like steam, I am the air, a laughing hyena, a crying boy\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI am a car I live in a tree
\nI am a bee I live by the sea
\nI am a dream
\nI am a de\u2014-
\nmon
\n\u2014stration<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI am a heart
\nI\u2019m a spare part
\nI am
\nI\u2019m not
\nI see
\nI deal
\nI feel
\nI\u2019m free<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n


\nFlight. Has it been ten hours, ten seconds or a millennium? Time no longer holds currency for me. Flight. I want to defy gravity but how can I with the breathing patterns, the steady heartbeat; the pulse of living things that pursue me? You seek to trap me, ground me; engage me in form. You will never find me, I fly, I vanish, I sing\u2014 I no longer exist for time, I am no longer a body but many…<\/span><\/p>\n


\nThe streets are unsafe\u2014 footsteps, blood pulse, heart beats, chants and breathing patterns, the recurrence of speech\u2014 they menace me. The secret pact of the Angelos is the enmity of Time and that which exists in it. We do not kill for bloodlust\u2014 it is only that Time, matter and form threaten our own survival.<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI am neither steel nor synthetic, what I have peels away and crumbles.
\nI flee, I am the desert I am amongst pyramids. I am marble, granite, sand, I am impenetrable and\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI am a stone
\nand I am a fly
\nand I am a spy
\nand I am of sly-things
\nI can do sky-things
\nand I am pyramid
\nand I am pharaoh
\nand I am that I am
\nand so let my people
\ngo, let them
\ngo<\/span><\/p>\n


\nNight, stars. Beneath me the sands shapeless, shifting, innumerable. Desire, rest. Darkness falls, mortality falters. How long has it been, my flight? Two hours, a minute, a day? I turn to my companion, he is no longer frightened or huddled. To my delight he stands upright and tall. For the first time I see his young face, he radiates – with, I don\u2019t know what. I finally ask \u2014<\/span><\/p>\n


\nWho are you and what is your name, what are you doing here?<\/span><\/p>\n


\nI am your little brother
\nyounger now but wiser
\nwhile you sleep
\nI persist
\nyou desist
\nrest among the stars sister
\nrest and have delight at
\ninfinite infinity infinitude infinitum
\nrest and have delight
\nrest and have delight
\nrest and have delight
\ngood night dear sister
\ngood night
\ngood night
\ngood night
\ngood night
\ngood night..<\/span><\/p>\n


\nHow soft and startling, my soul falls deep velvet amongst heaven and the stars.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a91997, 2013 onomeekeh<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In the street I feel very unsafe, frightened. Killer Angels roam the streets. With me is a small boy, I am here to protect him. He says nothing, he too is scared, and huddles against me. I mean to comfort him, but I tremble. The streets are so unsafe. I press hard at the doorbell. My keys do not seem to fit into the lock, I do not know if this is because I am nervous or because the locks have been changed. Thank god when Paul comes to the door. Or may be not, I don\u2019t know what has happened\u2014 his face is harsh, indifferent, unknowing, through the metal gate. He says- Who are you and what do you want? What is your business here… Who are you and what do you want? What is your business here… Who are you and what do you want? What is your business here… Who are you and what do you want? What is your business here… Who are you and what do you want? What is your business here… I start screaming, Paul what is going on, it\u2019s me\u2014 open the fucking door, don\u2019t leave me out here on the street \u2014 Paul what is this, it\u2019s me open the door\u2014 What is going on, es-tu Paul, Angelos? And then he stops suddenly and opens the gate and hugs me\u2014 Hey, I\u2019m glad to see you, I understand in that moment the interior constitution of Angels. They are allergic to repetition. A pattern repeated over several times creates a glitch in their internal syntax. It dismantles their operations temporarily. A momentary setback. This was the anti-subjectivity glitch installed by their Creators. Angels will never know meaning, memory or repetition. No past, only the present and no future.   Inside, there are a lot of us sort of huddled in small groups around computer texts, with low lights, turntables with headphones, or just like me reading the papers with coffee, smoking hash. Paul sits nearby clicking something morse code-like on a deck. And the young boy clings fast to me, I tell him its all right, but is it? We are not completely relaxed, there is edginess surround. Safety in numbers\u2014 and repetition. The music, ambient and trance-like repeats itself in tonality and cadence. Even our jokes are based on the irony of our survival, they no longer contain punch lines or set-ups. We say things like please be seated please be seated please be seated please be seated\u2014 and then everyone cracks up and laughs, but in an eerily repetitive manner, Heh, Heh, Heh Heh, Heh, Heh Heh, Heh Heh Heh, Heh Heh, Heh, Heh Heh, Heh\u2014 and then a loud Ha! \u2014to punctuate it. Every now and then, down the hallway someone approaches the mailbox and starts some sort of activity. Then Paul or someone else walks over to accost them\u2014 Who are you and what are you doing, what is your business here? Who are you and what are you doing, what is your business here? Who are you and what are you doing, what is your business here? Who are you and what are you doing, what is your business here? Who are you and what are you doing, what is your business here?\u2014 And then the person walks away, we are left with these small explosive gadgets to detonate under thirty seconds. Swiftly I set up the CD-Rom to descramble them. Angel codes are constructions riddled and complex. They are the accidence of infinite invention, for Angels must not repeat themselves or a pattern at the risk of shutdown. To descramble Angel code, is to become Angel. Discard past and future, only now. Only Now, Only Now, Only Now. As I become Angel, humanity flakes away, I fall into the pleasure of micro-electric ecstasy, fluid form I melt I dive I no longer am me(?) what is that, electric, ec-static switch glitch, ditch that line, flux\u2014 I am a girl I look like a pearl I am a swirl I dance for an earl for I am a spear burning my fuse I am a twirl, I am unhinged I am a flux I am a puff… Thirty seconds to detonate the device or else there is an explosion and every living thing within a 500 meter radius dies or the descrambler encounters with the device. The syntax of it creeps into the nervous system of the descrambler, like a fever. The descrambler becomes Angel\u2014 but only for a few hours. The human body is based on rhythms and repetitions, it has no resistance to the endless flux of the Angel mind. The Angel body, steel and synthetic, can maintain an outward appearance and is indestructible; the human body is something else. When something vaster possesses it, it enters the realm of fable and dies. Someone slaps me hard repeatedly, a hard steady rhythm\u2014 I hear my name Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 I don\u2019t want it, don\u2019t, no, \u2014 I am the sea but I am sand but I am sun a whale the tail, of a comet whizzing past stars I\u2019m the planet Mars\u2014 The slapping is harder, steady\u2014 somewhere on the planet, blood streams from my nose\u2014 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Onom\u00e9 Please let me be, the pattern is suffocating, stop the repetition\u2014pleeeeeeease I am a shoal of bright glassy windsaaaaaaaaaaaaailllllllllllllllllll\u2014\u2014 Black out. I hear the little boy crying. I come to. Paul says\u2014 We nearly lost you there for a moment. Maybe you should take a break from descrambling\u2014 Someone pours me a cup of coffee. I have the lethal after taste of bullet bite. The music comforting: trance-like, ambient. Something buzzes impatiently beneath my skin. Was I really far gone? I ask. Apparently. I am sad because I have no memory of the dive, but only regret in my body, as if it had relinquished a lover. The little boy clings tighter to me, he is still sobbing, its okay, I\u2019m […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3513,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_mi_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,6],"tags":[8,195],"class_list":["post-30","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","category-short-story","tag-company-girl","tag-fiction"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=30"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":32,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30\/revisions\/32"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3513"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=30"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=30"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thememorexe.com\/wordpress\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=30"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}