Andy McCarthy Reading His Liner Notes #2 Liner Notes #2 Sunken like a stone fallen to water, into the world as visibility set forth again when remembered like an old fire to new flesh. The circle found when the square is opened. Not mobilizing with hand and foot, nor ear, vein, gut, not anymore, and its an art to not act like a box. The persona who fabricates a living world from what he has come to believe is dead, naturally his own character will meet himself there; he will try to change the order of things, embracing objects like the whip takes air, the oilworks where the courthouse was, robots where the harbor was, and he will find himself for the first time, as always, chained. It is too late too, because an audience has formed, is watching, commanding, it wants grandeur and madness and supreme humiliation, he must puzzle it with overtures of the star's bow to mobs, Rockwell's tongue is the skytower with a new head, Rockwell's bottle wrapped in a paper bag like the city in its own grid, the shape of an animal predator. The chains seem grinding so a brandish! The aspect of inner rooms appear through cracked doors, and the deception of a passage beyond the grave's well. The chains already the humming of mineral creatures, light off millions of mirrors followed by slow hungry eyes. Rockwell sips, and in time steps.