ACQUAINT YOURSELF WITH YOUR SURROUNDINGS

"And images will descend to the ground."

Max Ernst

You thought you had to go to Egypt to play in the sand? Or to Crete where you believed you might find all you've lost in the labyrinth? And what about those Aliens you thought you'd never meet in the flesh? Or do you have trouble taking the theory out of the theater of conspiracy.

Weeellll, think again.

BIGSOFA is another EYEWITNESS OF THE CONGREGATION OF THE LOST LAND BENEATH THE REFRIGERATOR WHERE ARE MANY MAGNETS AND CAT TOYS.

We may not have the answers. We may not have the map. We may even not even know who we're talking to half the time when we're supposedly conversing with one another (enter the labyrinth of doppleisticfiying personalities……woooooo) but, you know, we know, or we think we know, that none of that matters when you don't even know the questions.

So, what do we have???

an impulse to SHARE.

Since somewhere around 1999-01-22 (or 1999-01-21) we have been going to our little portion of cyberspace (not as long as most other legitimate causes, I know, but for more than several it was long enough after a few hours and they left) and

SHARING

Cause

Who knows better how to share than people with a point of view!

It's all a matter of perspective.

A perspective we would like to share with

YOU!!!!!!!!

You lucky dog. (I used to have a dog.)

You see, it's like this. And that. Never mind what IT IS, we are and thus we are exploring what IT COULD BE with a variety of interesting experiments and side effects that let us know we are on the track of the great YAM who leadeth us verily in big and small circles with much teasing and snorting.

DISCLAIMER! I in no way presume to speak for anyone else who happens to voice themselves through BigSofa. We each have our own respective elephant graveyards and all we really need is each to have just one bone to pick and with a little dab of Elmer's glue here and there, and some string and staples we marvel at the patterns and forms revealed in what we have taken and discombobulated in order to put back together. Today we play at these bones, tomorrow we play with others, and

VOILA

The bones

Morph

Into

THEATER.

Bits of bones bound across stages for us. They dress up. They stomp like dinosaurs and sing in pretty pigeon pidgin.

The bones do this for us

because

we explore the

mundane.

Indeed, we explore the mundane with much vim and vigor.

Here is the original announcement for BigSofa. Its Notice of Birth.

"I've got this big mothership sofa in gold brocade, and I'm inviting you to virtually sit upon it and describe to us all your day. Like, uhm, today I had a cold and ate chicken and rice for dinner. If you want to pontificate on a movie or book, or tell us about an experience (the more mundane the better) that put you in touch with (insert preferred deity here), then sure, share. Tell us how this universe communicated with you today. Or yesterday. But don't tell us what you ate three weeks ago, unless you can't get over how good or bad it was. (This discussion group is moderated to temper particular excessive exuberances.) (Well, actually, that is where the first announcement ended, but then came the Saga of the Refrigerator just a couple of short weeks later and so I made up another group and promptly grafted it onto BigSofa in order to honor the Lost Land beneath the refrigerator. And so BigSofa grew and this was added to its description.) BigSofa's alias is A1TruantMindTexts. Get it? Truent Mind Texts? You know, Truant Mind Texts? Oh, never mind. But, in all seriousness, coming from the mind as a purveyor of non-static, ongoing, living word (wordiness, in this case), as in every day I write a cosmic epistle in my head but I got no commiserating church of like alienized minds with whom to share my desperate knowledge--even if you know Santa Claus is on the other side of the confessional and so knows if you've been bad or good; even if you have a 24 hour open line over which to air your gripes and praises; even if you have a soapbox in the park upon which you may stand and deliver your occult knowledge which you have received direct from that great guardian sphinx--you may still feel a masochistic need to share of your gripes and gratitudes and revelations with others who may know from which you emanate or not have a clue but still say Amen because they are another Eyewitness of the Congregation of the Lost Land Beneath the Pyramid Refrigerator Scheme Where Are Many Magnets And Cat Toys. Share of the joy and agony. Write like it's just for the refrigerator and your eyes, but then post it here. This isn't a joke. Be honest and let us hear ya. It'll be good for you. And it's all right here, in one place, just for you."

I SENT OUT THE ANNOUNCEMENTS.

YOU DIDN'T SHOW UP. AND NOW IT'S TOO LATE BECAUSE WE'RE NOT GOING TO TELL YOU WHERE WE ARE BECAUSE WE DON'T WANT OUR GROUP TO GET TOO BIG AND WE FIGURE THAT IF YOU WANT TO SHARE IN OUR ENLIGHTENMENT THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO DO LIKE ANY PROPER PERCIVAL AND LOOK FOR US AMONG THE BITS AND PIECES WE LIBERALLY SCATTER ABOUT HERE. (Oh no, maybe you'll think phffft to that and go away now. Don't 'cause I really have put all this together for you personally. And there are tons of great links later. Maybe even a link to photos of women in bikinis…well, a woman in a bikini. And we have interviews . And quotes. And archives. And stories and clues and maybe even party games and favors and much much more.)

AND NOW A MEDITATION AND ANOTHER HYPERLINK OPPORTUNITY

"I intended here and now to get completely rid of the…accumulation of dirt. I used up a whole new bar of soap. I just wanted to show it to you, it was special soap…I suppose the work at hand tended to absorb me, because during this week I had many things to think about…the soap was a good brand and of the best quality…What I was looking forward to was the sensation of passing my fingers over a polished glass after having taken a long bath and got rid of the grease. It wouldn't work. In the meantime the soap had wasted away and could no longer be used…and my whole body smarted as if a thin layer of skin had been stripped off. I felt like retching. Anyway perhaps it was an error to try to get rid of three years' worth of dirt with just one cake of soap. Perhaps I had become a pile of dirt, except for my bones…If I took another three years, with the brinish water from the well dug directly on the seashore, I would never get the soap off. Which one of us will give up first? The one who wears out talking or the one who wears out listening?"

Kobo Abe, The Box Man

Pay no attention to the fact that the man behind the curtain sounds depressed and depressing.

Ganesha, the Elephant God, Doorkeeper, was formed of the dirt his mother washed off in her bath.

Meditate on this.

We do at BigSofa. Cradled in big sofa's arms we meditate on things mundane.

Acquaint yourself with your surroundings.

I WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE MUNDANE AND HOW IT CONCEALS THE RICHES OF IS-IS BEHIND MANY DECEITFUL VEILS OF BOREDOM. POINT ME IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION>>>>>>>>

Go! Go! You don't want to miss out on the full color photos of BigSofa.