The Ultimate, Ultimately
Submitted by magilum on April 6, 2008 - 8:59pm.
I found stool before the old Remington at the hipster coffee shop to start creating the ultimate artwork. The prose was purple, and not illustrative; so I took to it with a fountain pen, massaging the words into shapes, but the words were no longer legible. Someone cried out that my movement was stilted and unexpressive, so I leapt up from the paper, and flung it at them in anger. The chords, another said, were repetitious; but, I said, "There are no chords, at all!"
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How many sheets to the
How many sheets to the wind, here? Be honest.
The point I was mulling
The point I was mulling over was how a qualitative statement, which only applies in a context, is bandied about as if one can speak of an ultimate degree, when it's not clear what it's a degree of. In the same way people speak of an "ultimate" deity, or an "ultimate" meaning, I tried to conjure up an image of someone trying to produce an "ultimate" artwork, when the parameters of it are simply arbitrary values plugged in by observers.