Algorithmically Filtered Prose Poem Farrago or: How ‘da Machine Reads My Handwriting

HAD I BECALE DE FANTASTICALLY LOST
MANCULE AVE BEEN LOST TOR SOME TIME – DECADE,• ACTUALLY – IN A LARAAINTA. MY OWN MAKING I DIDNT DEVE THIS MINATION IN SOME GREAT MASTO STROKE, LATTE DID I KON ThAT As I WHNDERED ute THAT I WAs BUILDING THIS FANTASTICALLY GABORATE TRAP.
I HAVE DES SULARMINGIN INTENDING TO DO SokEstNY My to contra re I GAMBOL ABET-6Ur 1 MEANIE ELUDES ME -大2NT DO ANYTANG BUT GRAPPLE ABINT AT tte ArR CHENGHING AT NOMINE.
ALL PROGNODLY ABSURD. I AN
PROFOUNDLY PERTURbED AI MY STATE. I KNON I All Last, But 4亿 UNSURE AS I ARRIVED AT MAS STATE – AND AT A LOSS AS TO How TO PROCEED. I’VE WALRED I’VE WALKED MYVELF INTO A CORNER AND CANT RANK OUT OR CLIMB UP NUT OF THIS SELF- INFEJED PRIVON. JAVEMY JeAT.

What I’m Reading:

“No one asks what Mozart means. Or an Indian raga or the little tripping dance of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers to “Cheek to Cheek” in Top Hat. Forget about making things that are understood . . . All art comes from love — love of doing something.”

— Jerry Saltz / “Jerry Saltz’s 33 Rules for Being an Artist”