'
The sermon for Aug. 15, 2002 is: The Gulag Skating Arena 4:22 p.m. Oh I've been unhappy today. For a while. For a long while. Forever. My old editor has been bugging me to write a sequel to the comic book. Today, for some reason, I started thinking about Laney's death scene, so I bugged him back. >-----Original Message----- Idea: as Laney finally nears death, the child she's saved in her delusion starts murmuring "mother," and then screaming "mommy"; and then all the other characters chime in as well, quietly but with growing volume and intensity, until the entire world is screaming MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY-
Flash cut to Laney, tears streaming from eyes, blood from mouth and nose.
End black.
----------------------------------------------------- "I drank what?" Socrates
-----Original Message-----
oh yeah that's good. More more more. -----Original Message-----
Umm, okay. Flash forward 3000 years later. Alien/robots archaeologists are excavating Coney Island, and find Laney in a spaceship staring at a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Curious, they make lesion studies of her brain and bind them together for distribution in class. The Narrator sounds remarkably like Ben Kingsley:
NARRATOR: In these days, whenever we find an intact specimen with usable visual and auditory cortices, a case history can be compiled from the data encoded on the conscious and subconscious trace levels. If post-mortem aphasia have not set in on the fascisti articulens, Wernicke and Broca areas, a simulacrum of the original consciousness can be given voice in the original language. This is very exciting! However, the primary difficulty with using middle-era human specimens is that the data is time-coded in a strict hierarchical progression; therefore, visual and auditory information can only be reviewed linearly, which can be frustrating.
LANEY (V.O.): Fuck yeah, that's frustrating.
NARRATOR: What one must bear in mind is that this allows us the luxury of middle-era human experience, with all its limitation and restriction. By being limited only to progression of image after image and idea after idea, we begin to understand the middle-era idea of "comic-book" - that is, the prevalent aesthetic peculiar to middle-era humankind of experience as disparate images, unconnected except by the mere shock of experience - what is known in the vernacular of the period as "life."
LANEY (V.O.): Fucking great, my life's a comic book. And death is a fucking neverending critical seminar.
NARRATOR: You may be on drugs, though.
-----Original Message-----
Aside from the minor detraction of the technical difficulty of doing a VO in a comic book, nice epilogue. Anyway. I'll tell you all, my beloved Diary, when I feel able to take interest in the things of life again. Perhaps that shall be soon.
 
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