"Nice Come-On. Wish I could buy some but it wouldn't do me any good. Besides, it would be too vacuous of me to drive that kind of sign out into the desert. You know something, there's a will-to-love and its still inside me. I can feel it inside my loins. At least I'm reading that pang between my legs as a sign of desire, desire for love, and you can't take that away from me. I'm just as responsible as the next mathematician screening formulaic devices. Digital Remote and The Mortal Scan. I read you, you need me. We're all there, Partner.

"Hey, listen to me: these exposed tracks of meaning and their supposed grams of nerve-scintillation can't fully make sense of the involuted wash now generating this generic sea. You too may want to wash me, but only as a temp. The permanent position is out in the cold blue yonder. It's the inevitability of my death that strokes me the best.

"No one can provoke the kind of nausea I'm speaking of. This is a code that refuses to submit. Take a hike. Go fuck yourself. The war is over The Subject. The war is over and I am The Subject. This is who I am."