Four and a half seasons after Australia — was it really such a short time ago? — I still drift into the inorganic and organic fusion of mother earth comfort. Surrounded by meaningless artifacts from a dead civilization, I drop my blood into the clear water of this music. AIR: Talkie Walkie. AIR: Premiers Symptomes. AIR — it's so elemental. Visions of the future should never be without it. Visions of the present can always benefit from it. And who needs visions of the past? 气. 真棒.
我很喜这种音乐. (I'm fairly certain that's correct.)
He will someday retire to the lounge with his guests. He will drink exotic teas and share his wisdom while a European woman in full Japanese dress expertly plays the harpsichord. A tall man with close-cropped hair in a tweed suit plays stand-up bass alongside. And maybe a drummer could join. Technology remains contingent while style and emotion remain eternal.
Keep plucking those zither strings, third man. Ya dig?
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Mental Stimulation; Food; Sex; Money
The "last man," a man bereft of creativity — by outward appearances soulless. An animal, doing what it can to survive, doing what it must to stay warm and, by any stretch, sane. A man without any grander purpose, without any drive to transcend his situation.
And so far, technology has offered no such transcendance. A cyborg living in virtual reality with access to millions of information and communication sources would be, and is, just as likely to become a "last man."
Than again, sometime's you're last and sometimes you're first. Cringer and Battlecat — we all shift and shiver between extremes. Encumbered by the titan of fatigue and insecurity, bearing his massive foot on your back, it's difficult to look up from the floor, from the stone and lichen that provide your daily meal and entertainment.
But is the titan really there, or have you just convinced yourself of his existence?
It's so refreshing to feel the breeze on the back of your neck and look at the stars creeping through the sun's fading curtain of light. But there's no such thing as a sensitive statue. Any being that's tasted its own blood should do more than wonder why the taste is pleasant.
Life is fantasy and more. Paracosm is omnicosm. There is only one truth, but that truth is liberty.
Whatever that means. I'll repeat myself only once: enjoy the stars while you can, because soon they'll all just be smoking bulletholes.
And so far, technology has offered no such transcendance. A cyborg living in virtual reality with access to millions of information and communication sources would be, and is, just as likely to become a "last man."
Than again, sometime's you're last and sometimes you're first. Cringer and Battlecat — we all shift and shiver between extremes. Encumbered by the titan of fatigue and insecurity, bearing his massive foot on your back, it's difficult to look up from the floor, from the stone and lichen that provide your daily meal and entertainment.
But is the titan really there, or have you just convinced yourself of his existence?
It's so refreshing to feel the breeze on the back of your neck and look at the stars creeping through the sun's fading curtain of light. But there's no such thing as a sensitive statue. Any being that's tasted its own blood should do more than wonder why the taste is pleasant.
Life is fantasy and more. Paracosm is omnicosm. There is only one truth, but that truth is liberty.
Whatever that means. I'll repeat myself only once: enjoy the stars while you can, because soon they'll all just be smoking bulletholes.
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