Year of the Amateur
Recall the frontier when the business of memory booms, when broadbands uncoil and clouds swell with sticky portals, amassing to a monsoon of live-streams. Burn your chattel to keep the cloud afloat so its tears can freeze to snow. The voice flatlines in this season of pulp: The artist makes miniature churches out of drain pulp, The Indonesian rainforest is pulped, the last illuminated gold leaves are pulped so we gather and watch an otter nom nom sweet urchin to a pulp. We laugh softly.
Copyright © 2011 by Cathy Park Hong. Used with permission of the author.