July 18, 2001

Spittin more bigger words than jesse jackson

Nearing the turn of the century, a francophone island money holder oriented all its calculation machines and devices towards objects. This meant that every operation performed by the institution--whether abstractly mathematical, intangible or collectively unimaginable--was modelled on something in the real world, something they could name. In other words, the abstract became the concrete, and the infinite became the sum of its parts, and from then on the institution was poised to quickly capitalize on any random brilliance of any of its members, a brilliance usually lost to miscommunication. Brilliant ideas, all agreed, not just the bank but everyone, are great but so often lost, misunderstood and endlessly replicated to the depth of inefficiency just because people can’t explain them. A period vogue, the project failed to deliver on its promise.

Sense of style

Pedestrians window shopping on the rue St. Denis were shocked to witness the chief of the bank emerge raging at his smiths. Hot breath spiked from his black mouth like propelled stalactites, despite which evidence of cold weather he fumed in a fashionably light suit. His sense of style, darks to match the coming winter, confident cuts to strike business partners cold, only turned his fury more sinister, but it did not shelter him from the climate. At that moment he made heat seem superfluous. Projecting himself into the bewildered traffic, he spun and fired index at the building, one which really did tremble at his gesture. Inside, desk lamps toppled and fluorescent bulbs decomposed into flickers. Coffee spilled and the mugs were not soon refilled, though eventually the chief’s fury would pass. The pedestrians saw this, and they heard the cracking foundations of the century-young canister. Communication had struck again at brilliance. While ideas abound, inarticulation buries them. "J’en ai marre, bande des cons!" He ranted and raved and made decisions much too hasty for the delicate situation. "I’ve had it with you telling me how to save the world! From now on we will use common business-oriented language instead of small talk! Illustrators will doff their macintoshes and command their vectors line by line!" The chief and his institution miraculously survived, but not before the hard effort sunk into cryptic mundane, the plodding sequential, the repetitive and depressing. more bigger words

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