Rachel Owl
Prelude: I have never liked writing by free association. It’s chaotic and nuts and I always feel like writing #&LOVE(#&#JERK@@(&*$(&*ASS&*(#@&(*@)*HI THERE(@*&() which is not amusing by the third paragraph. However, I wrote a stream of consciousness tonight. I’ll explain why at the end. This is written about the robot shown in the attached picture. Here’s the piece which contains no typographical errors:
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Death smash and metal wrath. Pink cheeks and red lips that I want to drink deeply the brown hair, so brown, smooth neck, white collar eyebrows Rachel Owl the robot, the android in all of us. The feminine beauty so mechanical machinelike the man in the machine. Smooth skin magical simian love reaches back so far into the depths of time. The stars shine deeply, knowingly down on us all through the ages. They’re so far away they twinkle in our mortal eyes. So many things we don’t know.
The unquenchable sadness, I know exactly what she sees when she stares into the distance, I am with her. I know her. It’s not even about sex her lips are so red, she’s so sad.
Her nose is straight and smooth and her face is just standing there in front of me so flat, so expressive, hiding nothing I can see into her. She is alone in that picture that is two dimensional and dead, but it lives through photons spraying out of my monitor. I see it I see her. I hear the music and write the words. The curvature of her ear was articulated directly, written by some poet that I cannot know or describe. I am cut off from him, but I can know him through his creation. Rachel Owl is beautiful and beauty. She is something else, something entirely different. She is the best of humanity and if they were all her I wouldn’t care. She sheds mechanical tears, but her sadness is more real than ours in its mechnical representation. The salt content of machine tears. We are dissolving into our technology and she is the most reasonable outcome.
Cry Rachel Owl. Cry for the tragedy of all of it. Your cheek is red and smooth and warm and calm and quiet and breathing. Tears fall so so so hard I can hear them and I can see you and see you and see you… how did you make your hair go like that….they all should all women should make their hair so pretty. I see blue around your eyelashes and projecting lashes reaching out about your eyes conveying the inner mystery of womanness of darkness and sadness. Blush red and lip rouge, makeup and outline the most important things to make them seem noticeable and put them in practice. The emblems the outlines the icons the form and audacity of the endeavor of a woman’s face is almost completely astounding to me. The curve of the jaw bone so functional and definite yet completely necessary to the poetry of the framework of the face. Unyielding in an argument flexing defining the actions of the angry resisting mind yet playing the proponent when speaking the intonations of romance the words of love. To live by.
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Postlude: I hate explaining myself, but this writing warrants it. The picture I have attached to this note is of Rachel Owl who is a human-like robot in the movie Bladerunner. In the movie, she learns that she is not a person, that her memories are manufactured, and that she has a short lifespan. This concept inspired me to write this piece of freeflow which I did while staring at the attached picture of Rachel Owl. Understand when you look at this picture of the artifact “Rachel Owl” that it is not a person. This writing is my freeflow response to her beauty and her lack of humanity. Although it is 99.9% impromptu writing, I see in retrospect some note on the embrace of technology by our culture and a comment that as we step into the synthetic electronic world of technology we step away from the most sincere concrete enjoyment of each other that can only be experienced by the five senses.
