IDEA ELEVEN: Fake it so real

Dear Bill Gates,

C'mon, dood. Turn yr gaze east, to New York City. It's time to find me. I'm the vision you've seen in a flash of sky--a jagged blue gash, a joyous revelation, an upside down ravine between skyscrapers... I'm the bubbles in yr coffee and the sleep in yr eye. It's ok if you wanna come to me first as someone else. You can be a liar. You can be a fake. I know all about wearing masks. We'll meet in the purple and blue magic hour of the innernet's LCD halo glow, where nothing is what it seems, and everything is up for grabs. I'll play the part of the billionare CEO philanthropist and you can play the part of the genius lost in the woods.

We'll play tag...we'll play Mother May I with propositions...situations.

I'm the poet--I'm MC Virgil.

I understand sentences and semicolons. I turn a phrase and stab my sharpened heel.

Take my hand, Bill Gates.

Fill my bank account and I'll lead you to the wellspring of where things flow together, many streams from many rivers. There's no myth of a source here. I am what I am--a sampling and a put-on, an email address and an IQ. A joker and a toker.

I'm a flicker and a faker, a fast money taker...

Written words are bastards and deserve to be treated as such; half-orphans in the half-light, claimed by no one, used and copied and replaced and posted, over and over, on millions of blogs by millions of authors.

So many authors, so little time.

Soon we'll forget about names, and concentrate on the myths that we create.

The blog texts will weave across the world, sewing the land together like the aluminum lattice work of highway overpasses, anonymous and forgettable, yet at the same time necessary and useful.

These texts are a new kind of technology and they're also a new kind of art.

Im the chick you need to show you how to use it.

Please write me!

trueboyATgma ilDOTcom

xoxoxo