simon

My part­ner was play­ing with my niece, who is 7, and gave the fol­low­ing orders:

“Si­mon Says go lay in the grass.”

“Si­mon Says think about your hopes and dreams.”

“Si­mon Says vi­su­al­ize your­self ac­com­plish­ing your hopes and dreams.”

“Si­mon Says make a frame­work for get­ting to your hopes and dreams.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“SI­MON SAYS DO IT.”
 

I’m ba­si­cal­ly wit­ness­ing a game of post­mod­ern Si­mon Says.
 
 
 
There was also a lot of, like,
“Si­mon Says play out a mon­tage where you learn to be a doctor.”
 
 

—mel­ony ppenosyne

Flom­mist Mel­ony Ppenosyne is a writer and weird artist type. In the last year alone, she’s trav­eled to Vir­ginia as a com­pet­ing poet, co-writ­ten a play on men­tal ill­ness that is present­ly be­ing pro­duced, and craft­ed a pub­lished es­say check­ing the priv­i­lege and scope of art gal­leries. Copy­right © 2018 Mel­ony Ppenosyne. Pic­tured: Robert De­lau­nay, Ry­thm (cropped), 1934.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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