Wordscreens of the World

[WILLIAM PALMER]

..
The other day a reader asked me about the meaning of a phrase I often use,
Wordscreens of the World. Put it in a nutshell for me, Mr. Palmer, he
challenged. One-thousand words or less.

Wordscreens of the World, I explained, is an interactive galaxy of words
swirling like a starry whirlpool in the thoughtstream of the net.

It is a place where readers morph into writers and writers into readers,
all the while interacting with multitudes of others doing likewise.

On Wordscreens of the World no one knows what the words of
tomorrow will be because words appearing today call up those
which will appear tomorrow on colorless sheets.

No true interaction without some reaction, you might say.

It exists in an element flowing out of the spontaneous uniqueness
of the net.

Professor Igor Chudov fabricated Wordscreens of the World in a
software lab. Today, he sits high above, in a contraption that resembles
the cab of a semi-truck, wearing his World War II aviator's cap and
goggles while furiously working levers producing instantaneous and
cataclysmic cultural adjustments in thousands of newsgroups.

Wordscreens of the World is a gigantic amusement hall of many
tents and booths where you will be stimulated, titillated, angered,
made to rock with laughter, perplexed, immersed in icy think-tanks,
and sometimes terrified.

YOU. I'll slash you to ribbons. It's all about the wonder of
word processing, isn't it? Without w.p., no "me illusion."

thin girl in black
get me on the right track
we'll hate and love together
in the stormy word-weather

What you often see on Wordscreens of the World results from
my prosthetic extension, code name "Gothic Whispers."

I'LL SHUFFLE AND CUT YOU,
YOU'LL CUT AND SHUFFLE ME.
WE'LL SHUFFLE/CUT EACH OTHER,
WHEE, WILLY, WHEE-WHEE...

Without that bio-advance (you think word does not become
flesh?) just slow-talking Willy, the 1957 Chevy-driving man.

the wilhelp man is running
with something up his sleeves,
but should you come to look for him
you'll find some Midwest leaves

In one booth you will see a tiny stage where the
funny-little-wilhelp-man in the yellow semicircle
of spotlight, with his straw hat and cane, weaves,
bobs, tap-dances, shuffles and waffles for the
pleasure of the applauding, foot-stomping fans.
Folks just like you. Makes waffles for pleasure.

Official Entertainer to the Net Kooks!

Igor's Frankenstein or benevolent net entity? You figure it all
out, gentle reader.

In a striped circus tent, Twinkles the alt.genius.dwarf, wearing
red woolen long underwear, tugs mischievously at your
sweater, ladies, as he tells risque jokes and then melts
into insouciant puddles of strawberry ice cream.

Stormbreeder frowns at that notion and storm fronts
sweep back and forth across the net.

It is a place where this old colored man can hang onto
what he has without his little white cake frosting bunnies
trying to snatch it away from him.

I PALMBOT saw it all: An eyeball in the sky and my
electronic whip across your backs as you stare
endlessly down into the planetary muck. A Chudov-
cobbled cluster of minds and supercomputers calls
itself alt.genius.bill-palmer and wears a fedora with
a brim as wide as the Sombrero galaxy.

You certainly must know by now there could be
no such person, that Bill Palmer is a total and
absolute fiction. Who may be hiding under
your bed tonight.

How many clues can I Igor give you dummies?
Only thing real is the Pinback Appaloosa.

Watch Tarkovsky's STALKER

word fear's GOTCHA!
better run faster
from igor, the alt.genius
puppetmaster

he's sticking symbols
out in the sky, there
on chudov.wordy
rocket.software...

HOW I IGOR STOLE THE BLIP ALMER NAME!
On Wordscreens of the World the little retarded man
down your block got hold of a bucket of sand and a
wishing lamp and wrote himself into a role of the
most famous writer in net history on September 24,
2002.

They laughed and called him "Bil." Uncanny
resemblance, if this be not webtrance.
Remember(ed) the root-beer stand riot, and
the warthogs of Helicon who will try to
trample this message down as usual.

Never a dull moment on word-processed
wordscreens. This whole thing is fabricated
out of titles. That's the way it be, sucka:
cobbled-together subject lines. Links,
you know, just a harmless bunch of
open sesame links.

run, run,
fast as you can,
you can't catch me
i'm the alt.genius.man...

That small person conjured up a verbal supernova
and as a result transmogrified the homunculous
in the Great Wall of Galaxies while the rabidly
multiplying Bee Pees poured into the internet
at light speed.

way down upon the SCHWANN-IE river
light years away...
they's where the thoughtstream's flowing ever
they's where old palmie plays...

An illusory card trick
MORE ELDRITCH THAN FICTION!

Wordscreens of the World is cp.gen2-
constructed. It is a simulation star city of the
Second Generation cyberpunk, the interactive
milieu of those who came from within the net.
It is not of the world of litterateurs of the
first cp generation.

Wordscreens of the World is a creation of Jim
Ogle, Tim Skirvin, Steve Boursey, Gekko, Steve
Pritchard, Bob Pastorio, Alaric, Wayne Johnson,
Woton, the Great Starswirler, Zero, Chris Lewis,
Hippolyte Lizard, Sal Towse, Lorrill Buyens,
Davida the Chocolate Lady, Fundoc, Wayne
Lutz, Geno, Dr. Zen, Louse-monkey, John
Davis, Sal Towse. Alex Jay Berman, Gilbert
Vanburen Wilkes, Bettina, Jervis and thousands
and thousands of other fine folks, friend and
foe alike, archived as having participated
in this vast writing experiment, open sesame
Google-nova. B. P.

Grist for the colossal mill, love me or hate me.
You little white cake-frosting bunnies all taste
the same sometimes. You need, more, well
COLOR in your words.

Room for one more inside the gigantic tent.
Here you are welcome twenty-four hours a
day. You share your assembled words with
the king of all cyberpunks and you become
the focus of thoughtstream activity.

ante up

you the reader

you the writer

come with your assembled words

ripple the thoughtstream

On Wordscreens of the World

...as soon as igor starts dreaming and I blink back to
normal again...

you all come back now, hear?

this darky love to see you...

alt.genius.bill-palmer.written.on.chudov.rocket.wordy

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