All this blindness and sleepy pounding of coffee are making it hard to work, and making me want to >GO NORTHWEST
NORTHWEST OF FIELD
You are standing at the northwest corner of a field. Shitty crabgrass abounds. There is a discarded Diet Coke can here. Mark Dion is here.
TAKE COKE CAN
As you reach for the discarded Diet Coke can, Mark Dion swoops in and snatches it up. “Got it,” he Twitters. “I’m going to catalog and taxonomize this. You’ll see it again soon enough — in a museum setting, nestled amid animal bones!”
You detect a faint rumbling.
EDGE OF MALL
You are standing at the edge of a large mall complex. A parking lot stands to the northwest, with a Bloomberg’s visible beyond it. The Video Music Hall of Sounds store stands to its left. Your central vision is all wonky. You just ate a big, bad tuna sandwich.
Mark Dion is here.
Mark Dion: You can’t take that!
Previously unnoticed rapeseed: Taken.
Chainlink fence: You can’t take that!
WEST OF PARKING LOT
You are standing west of the mall’s parking lot. Not a lot going on. Mark Dion is here.
You trudge solemnly northwestward, your hiking books satisfyingly crushing various dried-out weeds and timblebrushes, until you arrive at…
This is the main entrance to the mall. Giant creatures, made from the country’s best yoghurt, couple hotly (e.g. sex) on a giant non-dairy bed. They’re big monsters made out of fro-yo, and they’re doing it on a fro-yo bed.
There is a lozenge here.
Mark Dion is here.
You reach out for the lozenge, but before you can touch it, Mark Dion tries to snatch it. But his hands go right through, and he clatters clatteringly to the ground! The lozenge must be some sort of… hologram! Hologrozzenge.
It smells like a discursive fruit. It’s stupid. You’ll love it.
Your tongue goes right through the lozenge! Before you realize what’s happening, Mark Dion is also trying to taste the lozenge, from the opposite side, and for a second you are making out with Mark Dion! The yogurt monsters stop screwing and turn to watch.
You are carrying:
- a mouse
- a cursor
- a copy of Beckett’s prose trilogy
- a candle
- a DVD of Michael Phelps: High School Musical?? IV
- Kotton Krown
- Beach ballz
- Mousepad (dirty)
- Mousepad (pl. vanilla)
- trade paperbackz
- ladles (4)
- sleeping bag
- willow branch
- Map of L.A.
- Waking Life on DVD (damaged)
- one of Natalie Portman’s eyelashes
inside the clamshell there is:
- more orzo
- less orzo
- just the right amt of orzo
- fozzie the bear mousepad
- cheese stolen from chuck e. cheese
- olives stolen from olive garden
- G stolen from T.G.I. Friday’s
- chili from Chili’s
- Steak (purchased at Outback Steakhouse)
- archery target (from Target! 🙂 )
- Coffee bean
- Tea leaf
- the little buttons of Minerva
- the poultice of minerva
- the gas-card of minnie driver
- good will hunting (novella)
- sprained leekz
- salinas grave
- waxed dental floss
- rapeseed extract
- police baton
- poultice batonz
- taser gun
- lonely dreadlock
- more orzo?
- SmoarZo, a new product that is like paddle-shaped Italian rice pasta with marshmallows and graham cracker cruncherz
- li’l nards
- necklace of beens
- krakow buns
- warsaw gobblers
- red wine vinegar
- Sculpture of Teddy Ruxpin and Fozzie Bear engaged in sodomy (bronze)
- blueprints for Chinese nuclear sub
- New York Times from March 44, 2001, 1934? What????
- authentic viking shit.
You already have the mouse!
As you pull the mouse from your gunnysack, it leaps from your hand and hovers before you like an obedient firefly. It looks like a black arrow pointing up and left. It promises promise. It is a vector.
At the merest thought of abstractly “clicking” on a real-life “object,” your mouse flies to the Lozenge and “selects” it, silently depressing it. This all goes down with impressive finality. Mark Dion is gone. You notice a bird flying, but it’s flying with incredible lethargy. All the world’s movement is choppy and slow, as if the Lord Himself had just opened like forty high-res images in Photoshop, and His computer doesn’t have enough RAM to process it.
****YOU HAVE DIED****
You acheived a score of nineteen out of a possible four thousand, earning you the rank of GAWD-HED.
RESTORE, RESTART, QUIT