Saturday, July 23, 2022

Three Skulls Watching by Diana Magallón and Jeff Crouch

Three Skulls Watching the War on Television

by Diana Magallón and Jeff Crouch



We are watching the spectators, three skulls, a dog, and ghosts thereof, but not the war.

The war is on TV. The skulls may be watching it.

The war is the dog barking.

The barking dog barks, "war," "warwar," "warf," "warf-warf," "war."

And the world barks back, "war."

How long has this been going on?

Please note that this presentation is not about adventure.

The barking dog is no longer with us.

And what are skulls, but bone left behind, the odd birdhouses of what we once thought of as mind?

Do we think it still?

The dog is gone.

The skulls remain.

We do not know the ghosts by name.

The wall has a pair of curtains.

The curtains hang.

And what of us, have our thoughts flown?

From the glow, we suppose the TV is on in the same room as the skulls.

Who is watching whom?






Yes, we are watching the spectators, but not the war. The war is on another screen.

And we cannot hear the dog, whose barking is a display of font.

The war is not as we would like to think: "In another room."

We can watch the war on our TVs.

Here is where we watch the skulls.

And, yes, the war is with us.

And the dog wants attention, and it keeps barking.

Ghost.


Are these words what you were expecting?





The dog is interruption.

Where is the dog bone?

Sorry, but you know the question: "Do all dogs go to heaven?"

The birds are not present.





Blame the lack of progress on corruption.




Call the game "Interruption."


The scene is reminiscent of Leonardo Da Vinci's "The Last Supper," not in terms of the table, which is missing, nor in terms of  . . . , also missing, nor in terms of . . . , also missing, . . . , but this so-called sofa scene looks be a box, a widescreen TV wherein we watch. 

Conclusion: The display shares its proportions with previous art.

"Warf-warf."

Are we out of Cheetos?




No orange fingerprints?

Lack of heart?



What's the dog's name?

The text begins to play with indentation.

The following scene looks to have been shot at the barber's.

With curtains?


    

And is the war worth watching?

From violence, will we relent?

The dog barks, "war," which does not mean "repent."



We bathe in glitch.

We bathe in glitch.



The dog is there, but we don't see it.

"A dingo ate my baby!"

There is the contradiction.

Need it be a contradiction?

There is the ruin to cute.

Yes, the dog in the picture is cute. But should we be concerned with truth?

Meanwhile, the war continues.



What matters most?





Is thin yellow a signifier for ghost?




Is a bit of laughter due?

Time to clear the smoke?


Are you done with this chapter?

I thought this scene was in a living room?

And so we join them, transposed perhaps, at a place where the dog would likely be absent, not in the living room, but the community center.

Is there a difference?

Yes. And so we join them at the community center, sitting in front of the TV, watching the war.

But the text indicates the dog is present?

Yes, and also true for the scene at the barber's.



The ghost dog wants an answer--at least we suppose it does.


Memory is an afterlife.

Do we know what we mean when we say "Good-bye"?

"Rawraw."


No one is leaving yet.

The barber's?

No hair, no heir, none to cut?

How close is "cut" to "cute"?




Hmmm.

The dog.

"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men, Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!"

For the quote poppers and the name droppers: John Webster, T.S. Eliot.

What was expected?



Here is the dog.




"Blind until intermission" becomes the rage of interpretation.

Why? I thought we were watching TV, not a long-running movie?




Color or play by play?

Are the skulls trying to talk to the dog?



Legs and dog.

Does the story go under the missing table?




What is the narrative?


Erasure?


A representation of reflection?

Scene self-reflection?

Self-reflection?


What is the furniture?

Curtains.


Almost fully composed.

What the scene was like before the dog died?




Unwinding.




Spinning.



Technical effects.



Memory forms a committee?



Missing.



Huh?



Disappearing.



The ferocity of song?

A terrifying scene from the war?



Threatening.


Here is the dog.




But war.




The glitch upends.



The glitch is a cleanse?



A wish for glitch.


The friends of the center skull are blocked out. 
And the cute dog has a twin.


A quiz, dear reader: What does "war" mean?

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