and do we still believe that we cannot be saved?
out of this dystopia
(if) apophenia is the new paranoia:
Philip K.'s gone, Strindberg's Inferno a nice dream
(and in that dream someone far away was singing
verses that sounded like this:
“despite all my rage
I am still just a rat in a cage”
and you wake up [but: is it really happening to you?]
to no rat:you've become the
Away, who may (instructions for a possible end)
Drink in / pass out
(get high and/or manipulate the language)(so you forget those beauties)
Lay down / keep up
(don't know if I can do it – unquote, deny, fall asleep)
Astray, I say:
] the eyes of a white dog in the summer heat
thoughts of a (possible) me
[pass out? don't wake
Narra[c]ting the unimaginable
Even the most hypothetical of the stories we tell ourselves
– regardless of the medium –
('quantic parallel universes')
('non-linear time dimensions')
('add your own')
are: traced back to what we can imagine
what our brains can manage
with: no escape from mimesis
(or: should we abandon the representational paradigm?)
How can we narrate what we can't yet conceive?
How to find a way beyond?
Is asking ourselves about unimaginable narrations a way to get
the unimaginable closer?
Note to explorers: liminal spaces threshold worlds: start with a dream?
teen screen sleep (loop)
on a gulliverized screen
you/when the image's faded, what's left?
you/when the screen is black, what does exist?
you/when you see your own reflection on that deep darkness what's hidden in it?
if you = only in your mirrored image on the palimpsestic screen
doubt 'self-(un)consciousness (as “disconnected lost and pitiful”)'
exhibition. fatigue. repeat.
Nothing exists outside the infinite text so:
in this infinite ('pages',
'screens as palimpsests',
'databases as geographies',
(I did it my)wayback machine
...far away, on an alternate internet...
frag(me)nted deflections of experience
creating a netscape (do you remember?) of
missing links [here]
[down here] missing jpgs
missing me [everyware]
those pasts pasted on a flat screen
lock (all the possible) me out
in which someone asks: “are personal ucronias escapism?”
∞ or: knowledge as
an infinite hypertext my rabbit hole
but no White Rabbit around so it's me saying:
“Oh, read! Oh, read! I already am too late!”
(is it possible to be late in chasing books and articles that lead to other books and articles that lead to other books and articles that lead to no end?)
Bbof! (error message: Brain Buffer OverFlow)
can not store more information
can not remember more
(not even that (i), which recalls that memento)
if code and programming too are subjected to différance
ask('is my brain a computer?')
What if the auto-correct in my smartphone intentionally mislead me?
What if that machine had an unconscious? What if this unconscious lied in the cracks and shades of the code it is running on? What if this unconscious were acting upon an apparently innocent word suggestion, time and time again? What if, in doing this, it were intentionally hacking and hijacking my unconscious? What if this hacking and hijacking moved from my language-written-on-the-phone-screen to my spoken word and then to my brain? What would my language be, then? Would I say – if the phone let me – that the phone unconscious is speaking through me? Would it say that? And what else would it say? Imagine that.
Narrative viruses as hyperstition (or is it in re:verse(s)?)
Towards digitalthinking – not two words – on the presentliving:
from the internet
to reality [too real IT?]
But Not Back:
not a (third) place anymore:
from meme to me:
where are we?
The line between inner and outer landscapes is breaking down.
Earthquakes can result from seismic upheavals within the human mind.
(that's the where)
From a Latin finger to the digit, from our hands to abstraction – digital [dig it all?]
(that's the how)
if “The Message is Murder” does the medium matter?
(do you have any why left? be:cause)