.. as to inform the conceptual depression that follows the imperative to avoid form and repetition, (a way of giving too much of what isn't presently requested) here the idea for a sayspace fiction will be tested as a means to form the 'cital wave' into a sort of script in a wobbling bottle. Sloshing messages like... you know... s.o.s. I'm here alone on the beach and my coconuts have quitted falling. Please send a helicopter. I believe in the jellification of the reef. But apparently not after my boat had smashed into it. LOL s.o.s. OR: (2) I have been here for four hours and I'm hot as fuck. Sweat is not a joke anymore. It has distracted me from piercing fish out of the water and now look at me: I've become some kind of a living trope! I'm sending this one in a plastic bottle. OR: (3) Bonanza Bonanza just found a bottled message. Turned out to be booze. Spilled most of it. OR: (4) Last night, hot needles came down from the sky. I thought about living inside a black box... Just that, no jesus whatsoever. Light, the flicker, a strobe. (YES YES YES) Pocketsize stones, burning hot tails, the dark. Then I got this message saying 'The safety word is Strawberry'. How was I supposed to know when to use it? Ok, I said to myself, Strawberry. x