Rem Cou

   The hands and eyes and dress of Rem Koolhaas are alluringly
big
   and he uses them gracefully to stage magic-marking
performances
   about urbane cities and mega-structures.

   Seeing Rem and his parts choreographed on Charlie Rose and
in
   the MoMA video is to recall the times I've seen odd pairing
of
   old-hands of disembodied architects at work shaping their
dreams
   in public media -- upright runt Wright strutting in combat
with
   over-tall pot-bellied Corbu for grand infamy of big shocked
   press; pint-size Pei punily scrutible in big Corbu glasses
and
   beanpole lean Bacon planning amok in central Philly in the
   ghastly 60s; rotund begoggled pink Pete Eisenman and
cadaverous
   Corbu(redeux)-four-eyed Phil Johnson amidst sarcophagic IAUS
   faux-burying mod-architecture in the goyish-70s; wee Bobby
   Stern-Koresh eye-rolling and large Johnny Hejduk-Kervorkian
sim-
   simpering humility in fey personality-cultish tv-media-wars
to
   the mock-death in the geeky 80s on into the gayless 90s.

   Cults of the architects' body parts and prostheses
proliferate
   and dis-inseminate -- Corb specs as dumb-cute spectacles in
   cute-named mass opticians along with graves-over-teakettles;
   diminutive stature stuck up in your face copying-cat titans
   Tisch and Kravits and Ovitz and peas; big with tall shrunk
heads
   atop ponderous hulks a la fed reserve chairman and ms reno;
wild
   white gray and negroid manes-a-thom waving or pomadesh
dripping
   or jewish-frizzing and nappy-lint-falling, arms and lips
   flapping spit on tv and watery-eyes and bushed-brows looking
   askance and up to mexican popeheaven and george bush
handwavers
   on SNL-- televangelistic gehries slobbering and bespelling
   telesalivating archibamboozlement about land-mangling.

   Now here's Rem's el-greco-extended-digits praying and digi-
   braying and magi-coloring while his frayed noggin is nodding
and
   swaying to an inner comi-tragedy of netherlanderthal
melodrama
   and his cobra tyson-chick neck is embuttoned in collar-less
faux
   work shirt imported from the labor-sweat-cliche 60s bas
couture,
   and swollen-lid-and-bag-below orbs are dancing an enscripted
   pas-de-deux at imaginary video leers galore and adoring, his
   bankers backers pray.

   Such is the heritage of beloved landmark practiced expert
eye-
   hand synchronicity for sleight-of-body architectural magical
   alchemy to take away attention from odd bodies of architects
   that come with the artful dodgers.  Shy design-desecrators
   ashamed of their bods who practice weird perversions on
   entrusted crust of earth to hide revulsions of themselves in
   unforgiving mirrors real and haunting distortionate
unfun-house
   self-perceptions.

   Couture and exhibit and magnification of the self-shamed
bodies
   of architects and their artless parts is part-architecture
at
   large, forced barbi-ken dressing the helpless planet to
   camouflage their own secret imaginatively projected
corporeral
   warts and intravenous toxicities of in-body-cities and
inferior
   corpus-pus-tecture, then, to counter this self-putresecent
   repugnance, they fervently proclaim, it's not us that's
ugly,
   it's indecently designer-dressed buck-naked mother land.

   For big, very BIG bucks, slyly lent by great pig bankers, we
   handi-eyed artists remake dowdy earth beauty full,
exlusively by
   REM and autre bas labels.

   Alternatively, magic tricks by designers attacking the sun-
   circling orb for filthy lucre bums could replace massive
   destruction if the ashamed bent girls and guys would
acouture
   and magic mark their own corps de ballet more creatively in
   private, ray-ban their roving eyes and velvet-sheath sweaty
   hands, to cease jealous rage razor-bladeing the pristine
   innocent visage of the other-body world.

   Say, a wild astorcut atop pinstriped rem and remitators, a
   syms-city-suit, then, unfashionable Rem and part-de-corps
could
   unashamedly redress the corpse-script for grease paint
disguising
   Big-boardroom armani-urban-terrorists six-feet-undering the
   earth's still living bodyscape.  Rem the archi-farmer,
scarecrowing
   the bucksbankers, now that would be a sight for sore eyes on
a poster
   by the MoMA land.