As he turned the handle he realized that it was right in front of him, transparent as the obvious reality of what he was doing. It was not a modern communication system. It was the door that was controlling the patterns. Whether he liked it or not, it was only hell. As the door opened, a dark light appeared on the other side. To him it was a quest, yet he still didn't know that it was something no one had ever seen. The onslaught of mediated messages was difficult to handle. He suddenly understood hegemony.
The man crept along, trying not to let go of the door. He didn't know if he was feeling excitement or terror. He realized that it was behind this door. The opening of this door, taken as a whole, includes customs that are too late to turn back. The door was his. He was a man possessed. Possessed by what was only a few yards away. But in the dark game, it was the completion of his control. It didn't matter now. It was the door.
As he reached for the handle, he knew he must control his terror at all costs. he had finally reached it. It was a power that could not be in the distance. His quest would be an atmosphere, a circulation of vibration. He wanted it, so he grasped the handle. His stomach churned as he began. Question is doubt. It is the unseen spectators in dark hoods and the boundaries of understanding that bring speed. Sonic is the movement of his dark cloak in the wind. It was a process of reaching judgments. Across the landscape human endeavors in a given society destroy the world. He would control it. It was his life. His mind kept reminding him of exactly what was on the other side of the resolution. To question is not only an act. Experimentation is experience. Testing the society, we are surrounded by a blizzard of sound. It spreads everywhere at 1100 feet per second.
"I'm here! Your Master!"
He stood in the doorway of prevalent social standards. Deviance was power. Part of him already knew that sonic never ends. Deviant is a departure telling him to get away, but his eyes saw that it was important to know which question to ask. Nothing could prevent him from reaching silently along the corridor. He could see himself defy tradition as well as seeking out unknown truths and seeing the unnoticed. The clarity allowed him to appear calm on the outside and define the problem. It was a choice. His mind told him that it was conventional wisdom and that it was unacceptable. It was heaven and hell and it was good. Compose or die.
Thinking is the essence. Noise is any disturbance that interferes with the production of you. Composition is creation. It concerns the concept. Thinking is where it can be overwhelming. Turn it up. He did not want to open the door, but it was not unseen. It masks its reality by hiding life. It conceals a terror of consciousness. It was the act of caution, his presence hidden. Composition is the realization of the basic human desire to bring order to chaos, of searching for an answer. But it is also the formulation of a concept in the mind. The result is often interference. Embrace the noise. Culture is an unacknowledged filter, the transparent testing of possible truths. Results may vary.
Assignment: write a narrative that uses all nine of your selected words.
In completing this assignment i used a cutup technique to create an experimental narrative. i printed out a short narrative story as well as a brief description of each of the nine words and cut each line out with scissors. I then drew pieces of text randomly from a pile and pasted them on a page to create a narrative. Lastly, I typed the material into the computer, smoothing out the rough edges as i went.
Use the links below to view the original cutup or the final typed narrative.