Artificial Memory: Volume I by Abigail Child

Artificial Memory: Volume I Reviews

• 
  M.W.P.M.

  1.
  
  This phenomenon consisted of a hallucination. Try to break yourself against a
  sphere. I remember at the beginning of our acquaintance a passage
  
  feints. There is more than one direction. At the beginning of our acquaintance
  a kind of delight which pluralizes meaning by gesture and without
  
  conjunction. Hero chandelier. What began as a heroic search for a historical
  shortcut is truncated. Nation made to walk on its hands. Nation
  
  feints. Two raisin cakes and tea set out, tea and crackers, tea and bread, tea
  and jam, real cigarettes. Resources of repetition, variation and
  
  A control. We memorize your staying and send you our ideal.
  A wooden match becomes plug
  
  fighting for happiness. There is more than one direction. The winter of 1993 has
  been unusually mild, affecting weather and social self-management.
  
  Kiosks are open by docks running horizontally down to Finland Bay, the ships off
  to the right of us. Men drop into sentences while far below, consciousness
  
  turned. The apartness and unswervingness of a satellite. A one-dimensional system
  fails. Off to the left of us, necrorealist in velvet disfigures automatic
  
  shuddering chandeliers. Sky outmelts autobiography. An indispensable beginning,
  but not an end in itself. Ethno-cultural reproductions of sunrise are
  
  built out letters, fully sized and fully professional. Youare a success-oriented individual
  unobviously administered. Ethno-cultural souvenirs,
  
  reduplicated and unsolicited. A horizon of sleepless. Empire junked. True
  political indifference. Paid by foreign cameras walking backwards into the
  
  future, hurtling through metro shuttles, cosmonaut cowboys. As if in a one-
  dimensional system, you couldn't lose your way. Intersecting columns
  
  of conversation. Incomplete, coloured lights, peeling brick, melting ice. Chin up,
  comrade. What is the difference between a human and a robot? Alternatively,
  
  notice the statues. The students make sense. O one eye, I advise you to remove
  yourself out of the plantings. After midnight, we hail a bus to cab to
  
  Vasilyevsky Island. Komsomol spawned. ALexander, bleating triumphal TV eagle.
  Petersburg as a whole represents a sum of infinity of the prospect,
  
  elevated to the nth degree. Beyond Petersburg, there is nothing.
  
  *
  
  2.
  
  O flowers, prisoners of our instincts to be happy - how would you be
  characterized? Tulip, peony, lily-of-the-valley. In the forest, the trees vote.
  
  In the city, sellers hold up parsley, dill, American cash. I hadn't noticed
  the prisoner instincts of ours to be happy. But you have changed too!
  
  Reduplicated and unsolicited. Paradox of centralizing dependencies
  handicap. This New Year's held fast ads on the radio; trousers at midnight.
  
  Untamed hunger. Mental proto specialists leak. Endemic basement breeds.
  This was instead of the garlic. Decked for equivalence. Finally, the neglected
  
  question of the nature of social organization. Mosquitoes in a biological thrall. Things
  deserve us. Hygene apparatus lowered into circumlocution overalls.
  
  out shadows. The driver tosses a rope to set the trolley on track. Flax - that I leap
  to the end of - multiplying, whose afterthought, ersatz, renounced.
  
  Objects outlast us. Our lethargy says break me. Imagination's culture zone
  with leaves to keep soft. The main thing in entering the world market
  
  will point the direction. Leave Russia forever. Blank- which is project.
  I'm going to be in America. Without I in the beginning, but not to avant-
  
  gardistic. The sawdust reeks of the Baltic, old slippers lie about used,
  presented as a gift to the classroom, or if the bag of lemons will make for
  
  an unsettling pictures. Flags on the wall, constructivist spores, whereas
  every sprout made us sick from its green sweetness proffered. More and
  
  more a bag is hung on to the viewer, making her guess whether this can be
  yellow, sand. We watch films of the holidays: hysterical Hamans and previously
  
  rewound. We author originals. We preserve palaces - red, marble, green, censored
  'humentashan'. The exhibition a kind of home party, subject to
  
  sexual teasing, by which I mean, synchronicity with wife. We close the eggs,
  then buy the jar. A wall of history obstructs and contains authority,
  
  which acts as resolution in a mechanism of desire. The story grows
  - only $29.95. The sun stream by, unbrought. The day grows colder, dawn
  
  lights at 9:30. Where centrifugal forces tore apart empire, fashion and dinner
  come first. Drunks come to the door, doused in a pantomime, curved
  
  in an elaboration of attitude, soothed. This pencil compounds thought.
  Foreign clients have a special liking for the veteran lilacs scattered across the
  
  territory, militia booths buried alongside in a replication of myth that is enshrined
  on bridges, a monumental memorial to the upright bolt. We are breaking all
  
  promises. He gives no argument in favor of not doing so. He simply feels, says and
  shows by his entire appearance that this is utterly impossible. As in
  
  The Three Sisters, I never arrive in Moscow, but unlike the author of a neo-
  communist plot, I was not allowed out. Here we come to the House of Cinema
  
  Workers, and nearby the dacha belonging to the US Embassy. On television are
  broadcast bodies performing aerobics in colour. The storm passed. Era's echo
  
  crushed. Lobbing nacreous insecure structure melts - while her papa and I drink. No
  matter how appealingly original they might be. As for the make-up, it was
  
  undone. We begin to examine the film, asking for difference, authorial status
  moving onto the editing. Trying to represent it not only as we see it, bu also as
  
  we know it. Theories developed by the survival school may help. To continue, after
  all, is to put to the test.
  
  
  
  
  
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