Under the influence
Dear E-Lit,
We need to talk. You see, sometimes I haven't a clue what you do and most times I wonder why you even do whatever it is that you do. I thought we could enjoy a two-way conversation but you have been vague all the while. In our most recent meeting I have tried to make sense of the topsy-turvy roller coaster you have strapped me on with "Permutation Poems" but instead, here I am, at wit's end and fists in the air. At first, I admit, I was annoyed with having to read each iteration and wanted to rest my tired, weary eyes but then an idea came to mind: what if this poem was a means of bridging me and you together, person to computer? How romantic and how poetic, I thought--I still think, truthfully, sometimes. You were exploring the boundaries of your artistry and reaching out to finally communicate with me in the only way you knew how. Immersing myself in your poetry was almost sad in that your creations are limited by plug n' chug algorithms, but also quite beautiful in that each rearranged sentence is your attempt at organic poetry. I confess being nearly swept away at how brilliant it seemed until I read, "RE CALLING ALL ACTIVE AGENTS." A mental shudder and a few steps back make me suddenly realize the utter randomness of your words and, even more significantly, the senselessness. I felt like you were calling to action a sleeper agent from among the audience to orchestrate some unexpected and possibly heinous scheme. Unbelievably, in our every encounter you present the conversation piece and I simply react and ponder the if's and the why's and the what's. Is there meaning to the things you create? Am I, the audience, meant to mull over everything? In what other ways can we interact more wholly?
Sincerely,
Confused (and slightly under the influence) Bibingka
