Advanced vertical study of the LOGGING (formerly "Training mission") exercise -- currently out of felt proximity & duration, we venture, albeit still at PLAY -- may be req'd for complete APPREHENSION to set in. Do QUESTIONS of tabulation arise? Specifically, as to what might rest peacefully & logically beyond (voiced & unvoiced) NETWORKS? Most urgent: if supplies of FREEDOM go up, do costs go down? & if we INTERACT with our MEDIA, are WE the better for it COLLECTIVELY? Further, in light of the perplexing status of the CORPORATE campus, can one truly afford to ENTERTAIN oneself? Finally, do PASSPORTS prohibit trespass?

OPINIONS vary, esp. as to timber. We tend to assume, we assume, so we head back there. Where, choppy & not a little violent, our JAWS resonate with each new drilling north of the EQUATOR. Add to this that some authors get sick (e.g., of attention) about as often as actors, but less often than conductors, & more often than BOOTLEGGERS. Interpretation across the generations, maybe. But how to transmit the OOMPH? To troll a hooked (hackneyed?) line in the CLINK, say, c. 1949... 1954... 1965... a place, a splice---an OEModyssey? "Simply too deviating," he declares. "Overkill," she observes, wryly. (That popular phrase (as social algorithm), "got GAME," at once legible & obscure, irrelevant for the moment, & in the fall on weekdays.) & we continue to fry our EGGS on Calphalon, provoking -- what, exactly? Paydirt, it is surmised, or creaturely life expectancies, or your favorite tonic, or target. In short, variable stand-up HACKING either way, apologies forthcoming (w/o clouds). & of course these horrors of the simulacrum should prevail, modest (mortal) as ever. Bothered? Alas, the threat of unwashed cognition, that banner blinking "RSI" or "Bladder Shy" or "Syncytial? Who syncytial?" But for a constative, but to be patient: the elision of hair supplies begs the exquisite question of solutions -- at two bucks/gallon no less, daddy-o. In lieu of which lemony lilt, & in a heavily edited word, OK CO2 uhm.

Witness, scholar-like, Holly Martins's awkward encounter with that HUNGRY little Viennese literary society in The Third Man: What's revealing about this scene is how well it's held up lo this past half-century. Many readers today still struggle with stream of consciousness, & many scribes today still fumble Q & A relating to anything but plot or character movitation. ("You walk like an ace, pard/But yer shabby chic inventory is a mite low.") To begin to approach this assertion in all its vituperative SPLENDOR, attend two or THREE readings at your local would-be purveyor of those who would SELL best. & be sure to bring along a zither & plenty of POPCORN. (Exotic coffees will be available upon request -- for a small FEE.)

We are certain in any case that no such result will obtain hereabouts, despite our often THEATRICAL (hued) moorings. Another way of saying that some unknown number reading (or looking at) this material will have long since lost their sense of furor (4b) about such protoModernist doings, even while submitting to (b/c to some degree surrounded by) their palm pulpits -- a near-paradox that could foreground, but probably won't, any number of IRRATIONAL exuberances. We think we're so smart, but we don't understand our pedagogical ARCHITECTURES in order of appearance.

Anyway. Like PRAYER (unchurched), like dream (unplugged), logging has become a habit of protagonists in absentia -- a mysteriously automated (& preprogrammed) ACTION of mysteriously willful agencies, demanding for its total effect precise DESIGN parameters, & something approaching CONTENT. [Insert regrets. Insert spam. Insert hate mail. Compare & contrast among peers.] This reminds us once more of the need (if not necessarily the will) for usability testing as a subcomponent of that ever rapturous, Foley-worked we, YELPING for prompt SERVICE. Your results may vary, smack on the kisser.

: Please listen carefully to your surround sounds for a spell, then CLICK on (i.e., press) ENTRADA—gingerly, so as not to damage your CONCEPTION of same. Future versions (sequels) will materialize a crimson red, off-white, & cobalt blue rendering (84 brightness, 20 lb., seeded), perhaps to SIGNAL a persistent (PR)interiority [ha, & silly ha] of indeterminate nationalist (& correspondingly merchandised) proportions; which rendering (but which?) may presently evoke, according to a TRADE author once removed, that set of moody occupations known in the trade as

yewhoinsistthatwhatcamebeforeshallbeessentiallyprior

otherwise known (ex post rockstar) as The Last Laugh Track -- something that some have called something of an incommodious velvet retrorevolution. How long this might last, who can say?* In light of which obdurate conduct & multiflavored (incl. arch, sorry) circumstances, it remains no doubt difficult to adequately evaluate such inexorably televisual, if nonetheless legal, waters for correct HUMAN immersion. (That we must learn to relax & enjoy ourselves while TINKLING comes much, much later.)

~Time to turn down the lights, esp. if you're low on groceries, & turn up the volume~

~*Approx. running/reading time = 2 minutes. (If using a slower modem, Expect Delays.)~

~Flash! -- idees fixes only. Unauthorized duplication is a violation of inapplicable laws.~

ENTRADA