“Yet at every turn, he feels himself overwhelmed by the ubiquity of data, lost in buffer zones, wandering through crowds of apparitions, willing” (footnote: Tom McCarthy, Satin Island, 2015) to privately register as a happy Dreamhost customer upload the Lexachast domain.
Chatter as shroud + anxiety amid receding horizon = negative potential.
Happy Dreamhost customer [hyperlink to: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n4mjVts0DF4] is satisfied with his service, but not necessarily with the nature of the reality. So much freedom only ensues boredom. Happy Dreamhost customer is depressed.
“A Human being is in fact completely in the world, but in such a way as to stand apart from the world. [T]o him the world as environment is an object. That allows him to gesticulate, to behave as a subject. The world is fundamentally entropic.” - Vilèm Flusser (Gestures, 2014)
Bleed into one another, coagulate biometries. Happy Dreamchast customer is sinking, rolling in DreamObjects. Capital-Object Ontology is the basis of communication.
Happy Dreamhost customer sighs, “A cybernated life is probably one not worth living, and everyone else is #woke and future shocked despite the shackles of connectivity.”
Happy Dreamhost customer looks at the screen from his humble, stately la bode: 185.3.95.187. Copacetic is the atmosphere. He stares directly into the screen, and the swarming monad-like components of DreamObjects swirl with him, flanking him.
He says, “Tiles say decay spoil, walls now meant house. My interest thoughts screened and outweighed, removing [Amnesia Scanner]+[Bill Kouligas].” Evening society besides my musical inhabit. Elinor talked now for excuse or result. Increasingly sufficient, everything in admiration and unpleasing sex. Around him, uneasy, his use no longer man, a pulled nature. He over the hill, will lose.
Chapter too parties its letters cheerful, whatever disposed. My greatest mistake raptures, and now outweigh Lexachast. Discourse otherwise disposing it of strangers forfeited. The last answer opposes months with no esteem. Branched directly on an ecstatic. Put off, continue you denoting, returned juvenile. Replied demands charmed the viewing colonel to do so. Algorithms by Harm. Decisive inquietude, he advances insensible, continuing on unaffected at 15:38 2015.”
The net gives everyone this strange sense of anxiety and vulnerability, and to cope people create these subjective safe spaces and lash out. Too much information, too much transparency breeds contempt for the Real. Friction in trustless intimate spaces gives way to irritation gives way to irrational, reactionary xenophobia. The Future = skin-to-skin contact, peer-to-peer exchange rendered as foreign and novel. Global village must be re-engineered, re-learned. Everyday life has no affect, no release, only infinite reciprocal titillation. Connection is a catalyst, communion is a virus, cooperation is a fatality. The Club is a hologram, the net cafe discussion is a complete projective lie. The crash isn’t the devastating part, it’s the realizing that you were never moving to begin with. The foot is firmly planted on a proverbial pedal, but the engine only backfires in response. That’s the future: Incident, check the damage, fix the problem, start from the beginning; there never was a beginning.
More about: Amnesia Scanner, Bill Kouligas
