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The body finds disgust in Smith's corporate assembly, partitioned objects which prey on the uncomfort of common technology's reliance on introducing foreign bodies into us. The associative qualities of halogen glass glued to the skin of gym shorts is ripe and manifold, overflowing with material reference, catheters and syringes and crack pipes and glass in advance of their broken arm's glass into our legs, disparate objects allowing the dissonance's fissure to act as a vacuum of meaning sucking up associations until they only exist vaguely and foreboding. Blood is sticky, often surprising people newfound to emergencies who so often only encountered bodies that are pains to remind them only of clean superficial images, but you can cut off your hands and glue them to your shoes.
