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The Confront Affront

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  • two_owl_night
    THE MIRROR INSPECTOR Everyday when I arrive at their doors I am not Surprised at how amazed they are, knowing of course They threw the notification away
    Message 1 of 5 , Aug 25, 2006
      THE MIRROR INSPECTOR

      Everyday when I arrive at their doors I am not
      Surprised at how amazed they are, knowing of course
      They threw the notification away without reading it:
      Good morning (I say): May I inspect your mirrors—

      No, you're on my list, is all: it's a regular checkup,
      There haven't been any complaints. At least, none
      I'm aware of. I try to be brisk but not abrupt
      As I step smartly past them into the checklist zone

      They call home, slicing my palmtop-puter across
      Their immaculate floorplans. My first question
      Now intends to reverse their post-breakfast ease,
      I press my iniquity inquiring and just how often

      Do you look at yourselves? Regrettably the rate per
      Median is based on higher incident than most folks
      Like you manage daily: no, you don't doubt your
      Existence enough to satisfy the Law that yokes

      Us together in this most commensurate duty,
      Both me officially and you, you civilians must never
      Neglect the brief barest urge toward beauty
      Verification; we must take every chance to share

      Our equity there. But what a ready home you have;
      It's like all the others around. And that's why
      I love assignments here: you should see the depraved
      City, the rooms all wherefore sizes, the mirrors really

      Get into a bit of—but out here, where the blocks
      Are reflective—scapesules of their inhabitants—
      Mirrors too need their own kind, their basics
      Depend on exclusivity, the classical refinements

      Of class struggle, of mass heritage. Your lovely children:
      6 Lectras, 4 Meres, a Chandelite, and what else . . .
      But where to start! I could fall back on tradition:
      Bathroom first, the manual instructs! Toilet always tells

      A steamy story but don't worry, we're discrete,
      All according to our professional oath. The code
      Of our guild would never allow us to reveal what
      Shameful postures the public assumes: your rigid

      Adimadversions concern us only as they grieve
      The victim, meaning our true clientele, the mirrors
      Themselves. Oh yes, they're extremely sensitive,
      They know when they're being slighted or worse,

      Each time you refuse to meet your eyes in the glass
      Or blink, they register that as a criticism of their
      Impartiality—the Confront Affront, we term it. Yes,
      The mirrors remember it all. Every gesture

      Tears at their heart. It's a wonder they don't wear
      Out but in fact sacrifice ensures that perennial
      Glow, that youth that survives until they shatter—
      Ah, it happens to us too. Everyone of you people,

      And me, the perfect servant, the prime functionary
      Of the Bureau of Mirrors, I too (though I'll try
      To take a few with me when I go—to purge every
      Mislooker whose infractions are so citeful—!) . . . Sorry;

      Where was I: Your paranoia is appropriate—in fact
      I've already punished the neighbors up and down this
      Street, their episodes are serial now, the loathe-lack
      Denaturedness of their crimes enough to furnish

      Fellowship and whimsy to a waiting nation who's
      Tuning in as I adjust my tie-pin camera to focus in on
      Your astonishment: your snippet of tonight's news
      Will augment that pageant of panic and guilt no clean

      Sponge can wipe clear, all those dust streaks and flecks
      Delaying the arrival of any nose-to-nose view
      Of that cameo-coiffured face, that trap that reflects
      Our truest self back to us, showing us how and who

      But no, not that which we need to know most of all:
      What is it in us that drags us each day to these sills;
      And, how can one keep the self from this insidious role,
      Which none escape, at least according to our files.

      Bill Knott
      posted by Mary
      with permission
    • Greg Shoon
      Enough already! This list is SICK Just fuck off, the lot of you. two_owl_night wrote: THE MIRROR INSPECTOR Everyday when I arrive at
      Message 2 of 5 , Aug 25, 2006
        Enough already!

        This list is SICK

        Just fuck off, the lot of you.


        two_owl_night <two_owl_night@...> wrote: THE MIRROR INSPECTOR

        Everyday when I arrive at their doors I am not
        Surprised at how amazed they are, knowing of course
        They threw the notification away without reading it:
        Good morning (I say): May I inspect your mirrors—

        No, you're on my list, is all: it's a regular checkup,
        There haven't been any complaints. At least, none
        I'm aware of. I try to be brisk but not abrupt
        As I step smartly past them into the checklist zone

        They call home, slicing my palmtop-puter across
        Their immaculate floorplans. My first question
        Now intends to reverse their post-breakfast ease,
        I press my iniquity inquiring and just how often

        Do you look at yourselves? Regrettably the rate per
        Median is based on higher incident than most folks
        Like you manage daily: no, you don't doubt your
        Existence enough to satisfy the Law that yokes

        Us together in this most commensurate duty,
        Both me officially and you, you civilians must never
        Neglect the brief barest urge toward beauty
        Verification; we must take every chance to share

        Our equity there. But what a ready home you have;
        It's like all the others around. And that's why
        I love assignments here: you should see the depraved
        City, the rooms all wherefore sizes, the mirrors really

        Get into a bit of—but out here, where the blocks
        Are reflective—scapesules of their inhabitants—
        Mirrors too need their own kind, their basics
        Depend on exclusivity, the classical refinements

        Of class struggle, of mass heritage. Your lovely children:
        6 Lectras, 4 Meres, a Chandelite, and what else . . .
        But where to start! I could fall back on tradition:
        Bathroom first, the manual instructs! Toilet always tells

        A steamy story but don't worry, we're discrete,
        All according to our professional oath. The code
        Of our guild would never allow us to reveal what
        Shameful postures the public assumes: your rigid

        Adimadversions concern us only as they grieve
        The victim, meaning our true clientele, the mirrors
        Themselves. Oh yes, they're extremely sensitive,
        They know when they're being slighted or worse,

        Each time you refuse to meet your eyes in the glass
        Or blink, they register that as a criticism of their
        Impartiality—the Confront Affront, we term it. Yes,
        The mirrors remember it all. Every gesture

        Tears at their heart. It's a wonder they don't wear
        Out but in fact sacrifice ensures that perennial
        Glow, that youth that survives until they shatter—
        Ah, it happens to us too. Everyone of you people,

        And me, the perfect servant, the prime functionary
        Of the Bureau of Mirrors, I too (though I'll try
        To take a few with me when I go—to purge every
        Mislooker whose infractions are so citeful—!) . . . Sorry;

        Where was I: Your paranoia is appropriate—in fact
        I've already punished the neighbors up and down this
        Street, their episodes are serial now, the loathe-lack
        Denaturedness of their crimes enough to furnish

        Fellowship and whimsy to a waiting nation who's
        Tuning in as I adjust my tie-pin camera to focus in on
        Your astonishment: your snippet of tonight's news
        Will augment that pageant of panic and guilt no clean

        Sponge can wipe clear, all those dust streaks and flecks
        Delaying the arrival of any nose-to-nose view
        Of that cameo-coiffured face, that trap that reflects
        Our truest self back to us, showing us how and who

        But no, not that which we need to know most of all:
        What is it in us that drags us each day to these sills;
        And, how can one keep the self from this insidious role,
        Which none escape, at least according to our files.

        Bill Knott
        posted by Mary
        with permission







        Please support the Existential Primer... dedicated to explaining nothing!

        Home Page: http://www.tameri.com/csw/exist
        Yahoo! Groups Links










        ---------------------------------
        Talk is cheap. Use Yahoo! Messenger to make PC-to-Phone calls. Great rates starting at 1¢/min.

        [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
      • louise
        ... No. The list goes through cycles of confusion, hilarious to the ironically adept. Serious reflection and narrative are our staple, and true philosophy
        Message 3 of 5 , Aug 25, 2006
          --- In existlist@yahoogroups.com, Greg Shoon <gregshoon@...> wrote:
          >
          >
          > Enough already!
          >
          > This list is SICK
          >
          > Just fuck off, the lot of you.


          No. The list goes through cycles of confusion, hilarious to the
          ironically adept. Serious reflection and narrative are our staple,
          and true philosophy deigns to visit from time to time. I am one
          member, speaking from a particular mood, rather sombre at present, so
          have forgotten the fun it sometimes is, to post and read here. Yes, I
          am sickened also on occasion by particular contributions, what do you
          expect where humans gather? If you want to leave, good wishes to you.

          Louise
        • Jeff Cunningham
          Excuse me please I must have missed something. What are you crying about ? Your computer does have an off switch.Feel free to use it at any time. Fresh air and
          Message 4 of 5 , Aug 25, 2006
            Excuse me please I must have missed something. What
            are you crying about ? Your computer does have an off
            switch.Feel free to use it at any time. Fresh air and
            reality awaits you just outside that door. Take two
            asprin and a long walk in the fresh air.



            --- Greg Shoon <gregshoon@...> wrote:

            >
            > Enough already!
            >
            > This list is SICK
            >
            > Just fuck off, the lot of you.
            >
            >
            > two_owl_night <two_owl_night@...> wrote: THE
            > MIRROR INSPECTOR
            >
            > Everyday when I arrive at their doors I am not
            > Surprised at how amazed they are, knowing of course
            > They threw the notification away without reading it:
            > Good morning (I say): May I inspect your mirrors—
            >
            > No, you're on my list, is all: it's a regular
            > checkup,
            > There haven't been any complaints. At least, none
            > I'm aware of. I try to be brisk but not abrupt
            > As I step smartly past them into the checklist zone
            >
            > They call home, slicing my palmtop-puter across
            > Their immaculate floorplans. My first question
            > Now intends to reverse their post-breakfast ease,
            > I press my iniquity inquiring and just how often
            >
            > Do you look at yourselves? Regrettably the rate per
            > Median is based on higher incident than most folks
            > Like you manage daily: no, you don't doubt your
            > Existence enough to satisfy the Law that yokes
            >
            > Us together in this most commensurate duty,
            > Both me officially and you, you civilians must never
            >
            > Neglect the brief barest urge toward beauty
            > Verification; we must take every chance to share
            >
            > Our equity there. But what a ready home you have;
            > It's like all the others around. And that's why
            > I love assignments here: you should see the depraved
            > City, the rooms all wherefore sizes, the mirrors
            > really
            >
            > Get into a bit of—but out here, where the blocks
            > Are reflective—scapesules of their inhabitants—
            > Mirrors too need their own kind, their basics
            > Depend on exclusivity, the classical refinements
            >
            > Of class struggle, of mass heritage. Your lovely
            > children:
            > 6 Lectras, 4 Meres, a Chandelite, and what else . .
            > .
            > But where to start! I could fall back on tradition:
            > Bathroom first, the manual instructs! Toilet always
            > tells
            >
            > A steamy story but don't worry, we're discrete,
            > All according to our professional oath. The code
            > Of our guild would never allow us to reveal what
            > Shameful postures the public assumes: your rigid
            >
            > Adimadversions concern us only as they grieve
            > The victim, meaning our true clientele, the mirrors
            > Themselves. Oh yes, they're extremely sensitive,
            > They know when they're being slighted or worse,
            >
            > Each time you refuse to meet your eyes in the glass
            > Or blink, they register that as a criticism of their
            > Impartiality—the Confront Affront, we term it. Yes,
            > The mirrors remember it all. Every gesture
            >
            > Tears at their heart. It's a wonder they don't wear
            > Out but in fact sacrifice ensures that perennial
            > Glow, that youth that survives until they shatter—
            > Ah, it happens to us too. Everyone of you people,
            >
            > And me, the perfect servant, the prime functionary
            > Of the Bureau of Mirrors, I too (though I'll try
            > To take a few with me when I go—to purge every
            > Mislooker whose infractions are so citeful—!) . . .
            > Sorry;
            >
            > Where was I: Your paranoia is appropriate—in fact
            > I've already punished the neighbors up and down this
            > Street, their episodes are serial now, the
            > loathe-lack
            > Denaturedness of their crimes enough to furnish
            >
            > Fellowship and whimsy to a waiting nation who's
            > Tuning in as I adjust my tie-pin camera to focus in
            > on
            > Your astonishment: your snippet of tonight's news
            > Will augment that pageant of panic and guilt no
            > clean
            >
            > Sponge can wipe clear, all those dust streaks and
            > flecks
            > Delaying the arrival of any nose-to-nose view
            > Of that cameo-coiffured face, that trap that
            > reflects
            > Our truest self back to us, showing us how and who
            >
            > But no, not that which we need to know most of all:
            > What is it in us that drags us each day to these
            > sills;
            > And, how can one keep the self from this insidious
            > role,
            > Which none escape, at least according to our files.
            >
            > Bill Knott
            > posted by Mary
            > with permission
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            > Please support the Existential Primer... dedicated
            > to explaining nothing!
            >
            > Home Page: http://www.tameri.com/csw/exist
            > Yahoo! Groups Links
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            >
            > ---------------------------------
            > Talk is cheap. Use Yahoo! Messenger to make
            > PC-to-Phone calls. Great rates starting at 1¢/min.
            >
            > [Non-text portions of this message have been
            > removed]
            >
            >


            __________________________________________________
            Do You Yahoo!?
            Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
            http://mail.yahoo.com
          • Susan Schnelbach
            He left. Susan Schnelbach Technical Writing, Editing, Grant Writing Tameri Guide for Writers: http://www.tameri.com ... [Non-text portions of this message have
            Message 5 of 5 , Aug 25, 2006
              He left.

              Susan Schnelbach
              Technical Writing, Editing, Grant Writing
              Tameri Guide for Writers: http://www.tameri.com


              On Aug 25, 2006, at 8:27 AM, Jeff Cunningham wrote:

              > Excuse me please I must have missed something. What
              > are you crying about ? Your computer does have an off
              > switch.Feel free to use it at any time. Fresh air and
              > reality awaits you just outside that door. Take two
              > asprin and a long walk in the fresh air.
              >
              > --- Greg Shoon <gregshoon@...> wrote:
              >
              > >
              > > Enough already!
              > >
              > > This list is SICK
              > >
              > > Just fuck off, the lot of you.
              > >
              > >
              > > two_owl_night <two_owl_night@...> wrote: THE
              > > MIRROR INSPECTOR
              > >
              > > Everyday when I arrive at their doors I am not
              > > Surprised at how amazed they are, knowing of course
              > > They threw the notification away without reading it:
              > > Good morning (I say): May I inspect your mirrors�
              > >
              > > No, you're on my list, is all: it's a regular
              > > checkup,
              > > There haven't been any complaints. At least, none
              > > I'm aware of. I try to be brisk but not abrupt
              > > As I step smartly past them into the checklist zone
              > >
              > > They call home, slicing my palmtop-puter across
              > > Their immaculate floorplans. My first question
              > > Now intends to reverse their post-breakfast ease,
              > > I press my iniquity inquiring and just how often
              > >
              > > Do you look at yourselves? Regrettably the rate per
              > > Median is based on higher incident than most folks
              > > Like you manage daily: no, you don't doubt your
              > > Existence enough to satisfy the Law that yokes
              > >
              > > Us together in this most commensurate duty,
              > > Both me officially and you, you civilians must never
              > >
              > > Neglect the brief barest urge toward beauty
              > > Verification; we must take every chance to share
              > >
              > > Our equity there. But what a ready home you have;
              > > It's like all the others around. And that's why
              > > I love assignments here: you should see the depraved
              > > City, the rooms all wherefore sizes, the mirrors
              > > really
              > >
              > > Get into a bit of�but out here, where the blocks
              > > Are reflective�scapesules of their inhabitants�
              > > Mirrors too need their own kind, their basics
              > > Depend on exclusivity, the classical refinements
              > >
              > > Of class struggle, of mass heritage. Your lovely
              > > children:
              > > 6 Lectras, 4 Meres, a Chandelite, and what else . .
              > > .
              > > But where to start! I could fall back on tradition:
              > > Bathroom first, the manual instructs! Toilet always
              > > tells
              > >
              > > A steamy story but don't worry, we're discrete,
              > > All according to our professional oath. The code
              > > Of our guild would never allow us to reveal what
              > > Shameful postures the public assumes: your rigid
              > >
              > > Adimadversions concern us only as they grieve
              > > The victim, meaning our true clientele, the mirrors
              > > Themselves. Oh yes, they're extremely sensitive,
              > > They know when they're being slighted or worse,
              > >
              > > Each time you refuse to meet your eyes in the glass
              > > Or blink, they register that as a criticism of their
              > > Impartiality�the Confront Affront, we term it. Yes,
              > > The mirrors remember it all. Every gesture
              > >
              > > Tears at their heart. It's a wonder they don't wear
              > > Out but in fact sacrifice ensures that perennial
              > > Glow, that youth that survives until they shatter�
              > > Ah, it happens to us too. Everyone of you people,
              > >
              > > And me, the perfect servant, the prime functionary
              > > Of the Bureau of Mirrors, I too (though I'll try
              > > To take a few with me when I go�to purge every
              > > Mislooker whose infractions are so citeful�!) . . .
              > > Sorry;
              > >
              > > Where was I: Your paranoia is appropriate�in fact
              > > I've already punished the neighbors up and down this
              > > Street, their episodes are serial now, the
              > > loathe-lack
              > > Denaturedness of their crimes enough to furnish
              > >
              > > Fellowship and whimsy to a waiting nation who's
              > > Tuning in as I adjust my tie-pin camera to focus in
              > > on
              > > Your astonishment: your snippet of tonight's news
              > > Will augment that pageant of panic and guilt no
              > > clean
              > >
              > > Sponge can wipe clear, all those dust streaks and
              > > flecks
              > > Delaying the arrival of any nose-to-nose view
              > > Of that cameo-coiffured face, that trap that
              > > reflects
              > > Our truest self back to us, showing us how and who
              > >
              > > But no, not that which we need to know most of all:
              > > What is it in us that drags us each day to these
              > > sills;
              > > And, how can one keep the self from this insidious
              > > role,
              > > Which none escape, at least according to our files.
              > >
              > > Bill Knott
              > > posted by Mary
              > > with permission
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > > Please support the Existential Primer... dedicated
              > > to explaining nothing!
              > >
              > > Home Page: http://www.tameri.com/csw/exist
              > > Yahoo! Groups Links
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > >
              > > ---------------------------------
              > > Talk is cheap. Use Yahoo! Messenger to make
              > > PC-to-Phone calls. Great rates starting at 1�/min.
              > >
              > > [Non-text portions of this message have been
              > > removed]
              > >
              > >
              >
              > __________________________________________________
              > Do You Yahoo!?
              > Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
              > http://mail.yahoo.com
              >
              >



              [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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