Obfuscation

Part 1

In which The Fighter, walking through a sun shower in Singapore, seeks shelter by heading into Raffles Bar. By chance he finds his old friend The Failure there. They discuss a recently published research paper on data obfuscation (http://trackmenot.io/resources/trackmenot2009.pdf) and decide to travel to Shenzhen in order to create a biohack device that can implement the theoretical results of this paper into the physical body.

So what the raindrops are halogen

or magnesium in glowlight and The

Fighter, of course, only one without

an umbrella, and yet what matter

the straw hat the white linen shirt

drenched one minute now steaming

not quite dry but surely near enough

to snap the barbs Time’s Arrow’s head.

Past The Cathay the cinematic air still

filled with sundrop cylinders fizzling

as they hit feetfallen avenue that The

Fighter, bless him, past his prime, soft

gutted shoulders hunched yes but broad

enough to still do what sky imbues him

with - an ever present warning signal

posture ready to return the rocket flare.

Past The Cathay on Fat Boy’s Burgers

say burger red the colour of fascination

of course, of course, could throw these

wet clothes into the bin at shops, The

Fighter buy a new shirt robot cat future

proof of the sudden downpour for later

regaling to who - one who peels brown

autumn shells from flowers, puts in ears.

The rain on the tiles near the outdoor

bar in Raffles make the tiles look wet,

like really wet, like each tile were a

brown expressionist painting of great

wetness with acrylic emulsion polymers

nowhere near dry and say who knows

how The Fighter got here from the street,

from bend of bay through horticultured

archway, possibly, who can say, except

perhaps the one he spots sitting there

in the rain - my old friend, of all places,

the synchronicity of it - The Failure.

Absorbed in the televisual news, he is

leaning on the wet bar with raindrops

mingling in nestled sea of bourbon. Lad,

it is not that I cannot process it all, say

he turns to The Fighter, but rather it

is not enough no am not after censor

nor longform perspectivism or peace

but something I can okay listen to this

Howe & Nissenbaum two oh oh nine

regarding obfuscation even just the

word fills me with hold on my lips are

dry like tiles that never knew the rain.

A mind that can absorb so much and yet

use so little, The Fighter met The Failure

in his neatly cubed backyard in Wee Waa,

this is going back say a decade plus, say

doubleback and sponsor the pastwise, say

The Fighter as story being told by The

Failure, every narrative a diary of youth

being told to the ever-youth in our head.

I went a'walking the other day and heard

a new voice behind my eyes, perhaps

the third evolution of tenor and gradient,

of bend and volley, that my headwords

have resounded since preverbal longing

hold up The Failure smacks the bar thus

teaching glisten to pike, to pirouette, oh

you think so much and wander so little

my fighter now punch your way towards

train station, Adlestrop, no I mean the

paddle pop at the mass rapid transit stand,

we should blockchain to Shenzhen for

biohack components, I foresee a subskin

flat breadboard to prototype a filter that

pollutes all incoming news of the world,

yes lad, views o' the pearled nihilistening.