As the world kept him thinking in turns so would the blank, empty, undiluted space in the upper right corner of his unimaginative American blog. It left itself for last - as if it knew it was much too smart for him - as if the search bar that had once been there was an overture to another space in time - as if that corner meant more than it really did.
the character
The cameras stopped but his life kept rolling… at least it felt that way. He had been here in the public imagination for the last ten years and now they were just going to kill him… stop him from growing… imprison him in syndication for the rest of time. He was a character… fictional but sentient and alive. Sure there had been a fair amount of friction between him and that guy they got to fill out his corporeal form but he felt OK with it… he felt they had come to an understanding after the wrap party on season four. They found a nice little middle ground… an artistic commonality that let both of them grow without one ever limiting the other. He had enjoyed that but he was fixed now… an image stilled in time… unresolved… never fatter… never older… never human. He wanted to break out and push violently into reality… to step out from behind the idea and live… but he would have to settle for a blind progression… a life lived (in a sense) but never filmed. Words gone… continuing in fragmented, parallel post-ficitons… divergent, fraying threads of imagination would splinter him… unravel him into almost nothingness… a variation on a theme. He would recede slowly into the mind of everyone and sit there… simmering in the cultural sub-conscious… a new archetype… a template… a study waiting for reprise.
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