Ever since my first official loch episode almost exactly one year ago, I’ve held an unexpected fascination with the concept and its execution. The official definition of loch (as seen in its AlephWiki article) covers very little:
An adjective, verb, or interjection characterized by bizarre behavior, especially in verbal form. loch is used most often in conjunction a person whose words are sheer nonsense.
What started as a way to make fun of guys like ahuxley and me has turned into so much more (for me, anyway). loch is at once a restrictive machine-generated lack of human input and a full-blown stream of human consciousness. The original incident stemmed from text messages I plopped across the board in careful fashion. It was a combination of word-association and calculated (that is to say, non-random) randomness. I’ve begun to admire loch in many different forms. For example, it appears in my own writing (especially here [mild], here [medium], and here [severe]); the pieces of both Underworld and Boredoms contain lyrical or musical loch; I admire a few loch-style programs and have kludged my own; I’m not so much into the visual stuff yet, but that may change.
In fact, loch resembles the old Dada movement. I believe there is a distinction, but right now I’m hard-pressed to find it. To start, Dada was man-made, deliberate, and a “movement.” Most experts interpret loch as a force or phenomenon, something that can not be controlled and that will likely damage you if you play with it too much. After all, look at me. Fitting into the “primal force” aspect of loch in the face of Dada, there are two incarnations of loch: the Loch Nits Monster and Syringe Guy (not to mention the horrendous combination of the two). As totems/folk characters/heroes/villains, these two beings give loch a life of its own. Another odd facet of loch comes from the process behind its fabrication: it came from me even though I was in direct opposition to Dada. loch doesn’t want to be itself.