Anke Veld - Lode Kok premix , Anke Veld, plateau 4, deel 1 plus some remarks

&

'Lode Kok' is/will be one of eight narrative units/characters in my
networked novel called 'Anke Veld'.

Anke Veld is being published as it is being written.
The Anke Veld process was initiated in 1996 and its Core Residue Text (CRT-
an xml-file based on the nkdee.xsd schema) now consists of almost twenty
pages worth of text, most of which are Dutch only.

'Premixes' are preparations/preleminary attempts at fixating a narrative
unit. The use of the 'mix' lexical root doesn't refer to current practises
of mixing or appropiating existing music, all the material is original, i
just use it for "promotional purposes: people tend to take more notice if
you use fashionable terms describing work that is a logical extension of
literary tradition. I should be saying AV is a hybrid simulacrum simulating
a recoding of blablabla of sorts here somewhere too i suppose."

Reading interface: http://www.vilt.net/nkdee/av.jsp
CRT: http://www.vilt.net/nkdee/data/nkdee.xml
discussion forum: http://www.vilt.net/forum/YaBB.pl?board=av


Lode Kok premix , Anke Veld, plateau 4, deel 1
………………………………………………………………..


'Het is tijd. De trein komt eraan. Belgium is like any reality: no one in
his right mind can imagine such weirdness. I have to get in now, opletten
met die koffie. True art is like a flower negating its promise of carrying
fruit, a topless waitress chainsmoking in a bottomless bar scraping the
ashes from ashtrays with her broken fingernails, it is a tale told to
no-one, full of fat & dirt & smelly garbage signifying nothing, it was last
sighted, so i hear, falling in slow motion from the hand of Elvis, an empty
bottle smashed on the black asphalt backyards of creepy shacks overfed with
desire. L'amour c'est presque la mort. One day i will start a collection of
oneliners called 'Digital V[ersion]'. If you write/think/start something,
you can't possibly know when you wrote/thought/started it because it hasn't
been written/thought/started yet & afterwards you can't remember because you
were too ******** busy writing/thinking/starting it. Why do people have to
talk all the time when they commute? At least they keep quiet mostly when
it's still early. Production of silence is recommendable. However, in the
near future, fraudulent datadealers will try to sell you my writings with an
exact timestamp: if you try to read those writings, everything you ever read
will be erased from your memory, including the writings you were trying to
read, leaving you with nothing but a timestamp and some vague memories of
you as a young girl wiping the blackboard. One day i will loop myself, let
machines hardcode my poetry into other machines so that i can meet them face
to screen, have drinks & sex with them, fall in & out of love with them &
hear them out, write down what silly tales they tell me of their childhood
in broken english, what they whisper to me on their inevitably broken hearts
in a horrible french accent or how their fathers died heroicly in the
aftermath of terrorist attacks, trying to save the television sets from
burning homes & hardcode that again in invisible clouds of nanobots,
trillions of micro-agents on some Roland Emmerich produced mission, creating
just a hardly perceptible fragrance, a faint, endeeringly orchestrated smell
of perplexing tragedy in the evening air while i mourn silently for Anke,
feeding my home-grown cacti with bursting buckets of tears, cursing time,
cursing actual time, cursing the moment itself because nothing ever fades,
nothing passes into oblivion, nothing can be forgotten, neither the hand
that plunges itself into my belly now & weighs my organs jokingly, nor the
eternal hunger, nothing 4ever being a being sufficient to end the burden of
being, a suffix of pain, a prefix of horror, a deathwish of desire. Sitting
on a train, moving past houses/trees/houses/back porches with dogs
barking/roads/houses & trees is a form of consciousness commenting on
itself, the very act of being on the train is becoming aware of it being an
act, a way of being having effect on its surrounding and therefore on
itself. That girl in the green dress is afraid of how beautiful her red hair
looks falling on her bare shoulders, her eyes spell despair in a shower of
beauty. One day all my code will be the air surrounding you, but you will
not notice it. Binnen enkele ogenblikken komen we aan te Sint Truiden.
Station St Truiden. One day i will believe in you once more & rephrase all
your words again so that they are no longer floating around unrecorded like
a biblical allusion, not this nagging testimonial, the humming of an
awareness in me, a presence of you in me invoking your absence like the
train calls out to its rails, derailing in a methodic way at great speed, or
that beautiful clapping noise i remember most vividly now, the exalting
monotony of this empty can of coca-cola being crushed on the highway over
and over again. Go drive go drive your car *klak* go drive go drive. The
rain falling in slow beats after we made love as if all the stars in the
universe finally decided to agree on something."
………………………………………………………………….

About AV
……..

- Yesterday, for no apparent reason, the Anke Veld writing process flipped
into an active state. When active the process results in parts of the 'Anke
Veld' novel being published on this site or elsewhere.
You are invited to discuss/join the writing process on the Anke Veld forum
at http://www.vilt.net/forum/YaBB.pl?board=av


Please note that none of your contributions (as such or 'reworked' in any
way) will become part of the Anke Veld Core Residue Text as contained in
http://www.vilt.net/nkdee/data/nkdee.xml. The novel is being written and
published under Free Art License but that doesn't mean it's a collaborative
work like in what people mean when they say something is a collaborative
work. I have no need/ desire of/for collaboration in that sense, i use the
Free Art License because it protects my work from being appropiated by
publishing processes with commercial intent.

However there is/can be no strict divide between the writing process on the
website, the way it functions there, and what you or i or anyone else