Nahid,
So I’m back but I couldn’t find you and I’m out in the country because I got something like a distress call or it could have been a story poem. It was hard to tell but there was a lot of distress. I’m not sure why I get these calls. I swear I’m not working for the government any more. So at first I couldn’t find anyone but then there was Cap tricked out in this weird way as if he expected to be the target of an investigation or at least that’s what he said. But you know how difficult it is to get anything straight out of him. He just sucks up all the information wherever he is and starts in with the usual complaints. He used the word they and went on about a series of times and examples of the kind of trouble he feels we are in. I said that it was impossible to follow this kind of mechanical thinking and so he made a visual display, but as you can see it doesn’t really help. And finally I had to go because even I can’t stay out there that long. I think he was having an epiphany or there was a suggestion of ironic distance. It was pretty bad. Who reads these things anyway? And who can say what part of the past is relevant to the problems we are having on this planet? And who is Mu?

More soon,
Stell























uvdocs#8 by Alan Halsey

Stell,
It'a clear that moment has been opened up by what is happening but I am afraid I am losing track. There is dictation and trance and then something like a travelogue or marketing brochure. I am lured, blurred and departed. Time flies are everywhere. I can’t find Eddie and then I find him and he smiles in that way he has. His dislocative panic attacks go on or there is one long one. I have never judged him. This isn’t about that. I am not frantic.
Right now,
Nahid
p.s. One is attached. Attacked.






The chart of the heart recounts the dangers of thought to the traveler whose breath is successively taken away and returned and whose cells are possessed by apparent creatures. Here memory has the same effect as ultraviolet light when it hits you outside the dome. The shadows cast then are comprised of pure time. A deadly pattern consumes you like a job but more condensed. It is chaosified in the sense that each atom has its own set of priorities. Each dot is a knot. Blots appear on the timetable of your train of thought. The headache is persuasive, the overlay the layover. You stop. Time flies gorge on the days. They collapse into moment. The prepaid return occurs in retrospect. You wake finding you are already back at work and are reading this.

uvdocs#5 Alan Halsey