[Date Prev][Date Next][Thread Prev][Thread Next][Date Index][Thread Index]

psychoceramics: introduction to a two-part screed

	I just found this nigh-indescribable screed, and felt it was
worth sharing with you.  Both parts are quite long, totalling around
forty K; my mailer won't let me send it all out in one chunk, so I cut it
(roughly) in half.  I also edited it.  I have not changed one single
word, nor even corrected any of the numerous spelling and grammatical
errors; I've merely reformatted the original material in a manner that I
hope is less migraine-inducing than the original's wrapped-and-broken
text, which seemed to have been written on a word processor with its
screen set to be about 120 characters wide.
	Peter Kawaja writes with a certain visionary intensity; what you
are about to receive resembles most closely--well, imagine this:  if an
infinite number of monkeys drank an infinite quantity of "Ripple" while
reading an infinite number of Bibles, then sat at an infinite number of
word processors and began to flail at the keys, then _might_ produce
something like this.  But I doubt it.
	He's long-winded.  He's opinionated.  And he's stone batshit
	This--  this-- THING, this beautiful, wonderful, terrible
manuscript, starts slow, but, trust me, it gets better and better.  The
intensity, the searing visionary intensity of it, just grows and grows
and grows as the author goes along.  By halfway through Part Two, he's
not merely crazy, but crazy and proud of it, and an emotional
rollercoaster ride it is, too!
	Bonus points for the first one to tell me the exact number of
people he libels (he demands a war crimes tribunal for Norman
Schwarzkopf, for instance), the first one to notice where his
anti-Semitism goes from latent to full-blown writhing paranoid phobic
terror, and the first one to tell me who should play the Harlot of
Babylon if this jewel of distilled madness ever gets made into a
movie--yes, she's in there, he _met_ her, and evidently saw her nekkid
form, which he describes in great detail.
	So, without further adieu, I give you Peter Kawaja, in his own