SHADOWBOXING THE INVISIBLE MAN

[J KYLE]

At 9am I awoke to find myself soaking in my saltwater once again. I barely had time to remember where I was when the familiar sounds of Europe’s opus, once again came blaring through the morning air. By this time everyone within earshot was half expecting it to happen.

“We’re leaving together, but still it’s farewell…”

Like clockwork, multiple times on a daily basis the friendly people at Camp Confusion sent this relic of the eighties hurling into the surrounding camps. They offered free snow cones as a stab at some kind of reconciliation. A tall, bearded and nude man began shadowboxing the invisible man in front of their camp, while another man provided play by play color commentary through a megaphone. A suburban family watched this bizarre scene unfold from the comfort of their couches, in the street in front of their living room.

“We’re leaving ground, will things ever be the same again?”

After a long week of annoyed bliss, a woman of unknown origin forced her way in the Camp Confusion to seize the offensive disc from the player and proceeded to break it into shards. After hearing the news a few "doors" down, there was a tinge of unspoken sadness mixed with the knowledge that the next morning wouldn’t begin as the previous six had, with nine telling notes.

“It’s the final countdown.”

~JKyle~

[J KYLE]

For a short while, I was one of four burners gazing up at this screen like a newborn gazes into the eyes of an unseen ghost. Intertwined with a multi-media conceptual art project of the perspective-altering variety. In front of us was a screen with two cameras on either side displaying the image of what was directly in front of the screen. This means that on wandering up to this thing you are faced with yourself, but appear unlike you’ve ever seen. The image we were viewing was a reproduction of our physical likenesses but through an ever-morphing filter of bubbles, clouds, geometric figures and most notably perhaps, relevant republican faces. I stood there for quite some time and waving my arm slowly, made calculated tracers of geometric shapes against the dark night’s sky. One person rode his bike up and clumsily slumped his foot down to gain his balance. After contemplating the scene in front of him he boldly stated “This is amazing, we are the new God.” After imparting this revelation, he rode off into the backdrop of the endless blinky lights. I looked back at the art piece in time to notice that the tiny geometric shapes that made up the voyeuristic projection had become the face of our president, ad nauseam. I turned to my fellow participants and informed them that we were all being illustrated in such a way. They thought I was delusional until I convinced them to look closely.

~JKyle~

[d6]

where was the screen of which you speak?
3:00 plaza?

"we're going to venus.................."

d6

[sparkletarte]

Whoa, dude, the flashing. I tried to read your post but I felt a seizure coming on.

[J KYLE]

where was the screen of which you speak?

If memory serves, it was at one end of the Esplanade, across from Bad Idea Theater and next to the "Popcorn Gifting Center".

That whole section of town had me really inspired one night.

Whoa, dude, the flashing. I tried to read your post but I felt a seizure coming on.

Okay, I don't want that... I've changed the banner to prevent this possibility.

~JKyle~

[J KYLE]

Slowly tracing the seams at the top of the tent with my newly shifted perspective, I noticed the lights from the passing cars tease my demise as they shone on the side of my structure. I was confident they wouldn’t run me over, but I imagined it would happen. An argument between two proud men could be overheard close by and might have become the muse of some paranoia, had I not already made up my mind not to fear the elements that evening. The high speed of the air outside made the zippers of my tent sound as though they were alive and communicating. Being alone, and unable to see the sources of the noises I was hearing from inside the small dome gave a whole new reality to the soundscapes, which permeated the wild reality in which I was temporarily entrenched. A horizontal bar of translucent plastic, above the main zipper door allowed a ray of light to enter each time someone drove down my section of Jupiter. In my mentally enhanced condition those fleeting gleams of light became illegible phrasings of hope.


~JKyle~

[J KYLE]

The fierce and debilitating dust storm subsided momentarily to allow for unaffected appreciation of the sporadically placed art between the Man and an ever expanding hemisphere of visual and auditory stimuli. Beige soot covered my surrogate family from head to foot as we stared slack-jawed at a light box one of my fellow revelers swore wasn't made by the hands of man. A 7'x 7'x 7' grid of translucent bulbs and tightly stretched wires presented itself as a multitude of 3-dimensional scenes. All who wandered up to this impressive display of imagination meets technical ability made some kind of gesture or comment to indicate they were equally impressed. A situational nomad sporting a microphone, delay unit and small amplifier found his way up to this thing and audibly processed the thought; "Look what they've done with the happy fun ball". Big blocks of color took turns occupying sections of the cube while the relentless energy of the wind caused the lights within them to shiver with a uniform intensity. The lights dimmed to complete darkness, then one drop of water made it's way from the highest sphere, to the crystal pool of blue below, causing a ripple that resulted in a collective gasp indicating a communal loss of breath.

~JKyle~