crunchy "consciousness"

[Not Rondo]

I'm thinking of a surrealist quorum holding court in the french kitchen of a benefactor's country cottage where telegrams are received and transmitted from 2PM to 4PM or whenever the telegrapher feels like working birch bark walls rigged with marconi radio transmitters calibrated to receive the love songs from a blue whale to a german u-boat commander lost beneath the arctic ice caps and random conversations on the sidewalks of the Champs-Élysées the former dadaists can not hear anything over the sound of their platinum teeth officiating the peculiar marriage of shrapnel and tiger milk.

mash this...