Drinking from a text book, full of fake wine. gulping to dissolve that anechoic mind. with echoes stretching off the pages, I designate imaginary/real. using children's tears as anesthetic, we dissect teh rhetoric. still the self, commodified, is severed from our feelings. we want them back. this spectacle, this history is rewritten to please. everybody laughs now. we're audience to mystery of disconnected history. we're audience to tragedy of disconnected majesty