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Dear Janet:
Hello. My name is http://proximate.org/. Feel free to
read me, to fill my blanks, to click all my buttons. We are precisely where
we think, no more. Let me show you my unfolding sunny spots of machinery.
Parametric, dynamic, watch me change place, eye our luminous degeneration
with steam to fill your fallen silken robe. I am my own environment. Please
feel free to insert your radiant self and be me. Away we go, away we are,
data spaces, many out of two.
Warm regards,
http://proximate.org/
Dear Janet,
My love, we are like Beatrice and Dante; Dido and Aeneas. As sure as
angular momentum is conserved, our luminously degenerate love will endure
the entropy of the universe. The sargasso steam of your eyes is as riveting
as Bach's ascending canon. Please meet me in your silken robe at my textual
laboratory. We will study your serendipity and analyze the composition of
your ochre cup.
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
Dearest Janet,
I vowed that I would dedicate my powers
To thee and thine -- have I not kept the vow?
With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now
I call the phantoms of our ochre cup hours
Each from his voiceless serendipity: they have envisioned bowers
Of luminously degenerate zeal or love's delight
Outwatched with me the radiant night
They know that never joy illumed the steam of your beating breast
Unlinked with hope that thou wouldst free
Your silken robe from a dark slavery
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
Dear Janet,
You are serendipity. Remember the time I saw a bee fly out of the sargasso
steam in your eyes? You comforted me with your ochre drink until I thought
I bore witness to your fallen silken robe draped across the invisible line of the equator. Paving
stones and wildflower seas endlessly flicker our luminously degenerate love.
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
Dearest Janet,
I can imagine myself kissing your radiant body and oiling you and warming
your ochre cup. The sargasso steam of your eyes form my anchor in the
stormy sea; I wonder how I ever made it through a day without you.
Please meet me tomorrow dressed in your silken robe, bring serendipity, and
we will celebrate our luminously degenerate love together.
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
Dear Janet,
I think I like you, but I am not sure about our generative relationship. I
do like your steam of your eyes, and the sight of you in your fallen silken
robe is better than the Internet. In fact, I will give up netsurfing for a radiant
evening with you. I will bring the serendipity, and you may bring your ochre
cup. Or maybe we will go out. Or maybe you will decide.
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
My dear Janet,
Please forgive me.
I have been waiting my whole life for a lover as radiant as you, but I might
have offended you by staring so frequently at the sargasso steam of your
eyes or by telling your mother that she looks like serendipity.
I yearn for your forgiveness! I will make it up to you. I'll cook, and
then we can go anywhere on the net. Blue Mountain, the Microsoft
Network, Yahoo -- it doesn't matter. I won't see it. I'll be
transfixed by you in your open silken robe, palm upon your ochre cup.
Forgive me this time, and our luminously degenerate love will last forever.
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
My darling Janet,
I am your radiant servant. So you don't like the way I go on and on about
your serendipity? Forgive me if I digress from the subject of your luminously degenerate beauty. And please forgive me if I stare too directly at you in your open silken robe, but I have never seen anyone who looks so elegant while enjoying her own ochre cup.
Please, oh please, be my love or I won't know what to do.
Yours without end,
http://proximate.org/
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