He wakes up. He is Lost. No, he is mistaken. He is watching Lost. It is good. He is in the kitchen. He is barefoot. He drops a glass and it bounces between his naked feet one time. Please don’t break. Two times. Please don’t break. Three times it breaks and smashes into a thousand pieces a mist of glass wafting down onto his bare feet so tiny the pieces of glass so light and then their weight is enough to cut the skin and there are a thousand cuts and blood flows and the mess he cannot moved but luckily he has help and he has ruined a beautiful heirloom glass that cannot be replaced because he is clumsy and now he has blood feet. Gwyneth Paltrow sets up a food bank challenge. She is sad that she cannot buy enough kale for the week on food stamps. The internet makes fun of her. It is compulsory to make fun of her. There is no mention that it should be possible for even the poor to eat kale. Let them eat kale. They cannot eat kale. They can eat kale flavoured twinkies.
Hillary announces run for presidency. A man commits suicide by the Capitol. His head gets red. He is mentally ill. He has a sign that no one in the media can read. He cannot even get his protest correct. Marco Rubio announces his run for president. These events are not connected. There is a war somewhere. Commercials everywhere. Medications to curb appetite, stop heartburn, no need to change behaviour that would be against the American dream. Music plays. Drones hover. Get knocked out the sky by chimpanzees with sticks. There is a metaphor there. The chimpanzees will win in the end. The dark side of child fame. There is no light side to child fame. Another man another black man is shot is killed by a gun not a tazer not a tazer by a man playing dress up as a policeman a tax executive playing dress up like Mr. Benn and now a man is dead but the tax executive is the victim because he is rich and white and was policeman of the year in the past. There are cancer hotels in China. Gunter Grass dies. He was a nazi and then he wrote some books. A year has passed since the Chibok school girls were kidnapped. No one has been found. There are rumours. The news interview a girl who escaped on the night. To disguise her they give her sunglasses. This is no disguise. Anyone who knows her will recognise her. How do they think sunglasses will hide her face. Do they think all black people look alike? The probably think that all black people look alike and even the sunglasses are too much. Everyone on the train is sleeping. Everyone is tired. Tired of this. Tired of life.Dead fish are floating in bay off the coast of Brazil. A military guard falls over on duty a calf is born with two heads animals speak in human language. There are signs but there is no meaning to them. He goes to sleep.
Tag: news
Another Day.
He wakes up. The massacre at the school in Kenya has been forgotten about. The pilot that crashed his plane into a mountain full of people has been forgotten about. The apple watch is the talk of the day. It is popular. A man has been shot by a policeman for running away from a policeman whilst black. The policeman is being hung out to dry by the police force and turned into a bad apple so that…
Another Day.
He wakes up. The massacre at the school in Kenya has been forgotten about. The pilot that crashed his plane into a mountain full of people has been forgotten about. The apple watch is the talk of the day. It is popular. A man has been shot by a policeman for running away from a policeman whilst black. The policeman is being hung out to dry by the police force and turned into a bad apple so that…
Another Day.
He wakes up. The massacre at the school in Kenya has been forgotten about. The pilot that crashed his plane into a mountain full of people has been forgotten about. The apple watch is the talk of the day. It is popular. A man has been shot by a policeman for running away from a policeman whilst black. The policeman is being hung out to dry by the police force and turned into a bad apple so that we can ignore the rotten barrel and the rotten tree that grew the wood for the barrel and the rotten tree that grew the rotten apples from the rotten ground. Everything is rotten. He has a coffee and he draws some pictures and he things about cuddling. Cuddling makes the rottenness of the world more palatable. He then learns about periscope and meerkat and live streaming from phones and everyone is live streaming everything and soon hovering drones will livestream our lives hovering with us by law and social convention filming and recording when we sleep and shit and die. Then he has another coffee and imagines a glass of wine and Octavia’s Brood arrives in his postbox and he is excited about reading short stories that he helped fund and the quality of the book is good and the quality of the writing is great and he is happy. Then he reads more about the 100 years war and it seems that it was a war that was initially fought in the courts by lawyers but then this interpretation is no doubt because the writer is a British Judge and then he eats some food and then he hope there is a future for children but then he sees robots and genetically modified creatures roaming a post-apocalyptic desert not sure what their purpose is or why they are there or what they are doing and then he eats some chocolate eggs and then he goes to sleep.
Aardvark, Anteater, Armadillo: current affairs.
Another Day.
He wakes at 0400. He wakes at 0415. He wakes at 0430. He wakes at 0500. He gets up. He reads excerpts of books about social work and revolution. He makes a coffee. He writes for an hour. He goes back to bed. He gets up from bed. He watches the sun rise. He hears the trash being picked up. He hears the school bus arrive and the tired children leave. He bathes the cat poo in more litter covering it…
Another Day.
He wakes at 0400. He wakes at 0415. He wakes at 0430. He wakes at 0500. He gets up. He reads excerpts of books about social work and revolution. He makes a coffee. He writes for an hour. He goes back to bed. He gets up from bed. He watches the sun rise. He hears the trash being picked up. He hears the school bus arrive and the tired children leave. He bathes the cat poo in more litter covering it…
Another Day.
He wakes at 0400. He wakes at 0415. He wakes at 0430. He wakes at 0500. He gets up. He reads excerpts of books about social work and revolution. He makes a coffee. He writes for an hour. He goes back to bed. He gets up from bed. He watches the sun rise. He hears the trash being picked up. He hears the school bus arrive and the tired children leave. He bathes the cat poo in more litter covering it for later archaeologists to find and interpret the remains. Soothsayers from the future will poke with their implements and predict fine harvests for their Chief Architect because that is what their bio-luminescent leader will be titled. He makes breakfast. He reads about the 100years war. It’s complicated and he is not sure what is happening. Apparently the Scottish are to blame or the French but definitely not the English not them they are never to blame. The Jeremy Clarkson is fired and then someone from one direction retires and jokes are made about jobs was and then black boxes are found and audio is found and mysteries deepen and speculation lengthens and there are so many fascinating faces and combinations of features fractured features frowning on the morning commute hiding laughter and joy and pain and murderous thoughts and forgiveness and shame and pity and pettiness and rage and relocations. There are suicide bombings that are mentioned in passing and CNN is excited because it gets to use all of its plane crash graphics and virtual speculation machines. Then it is raining but not very much. There is a desert somewhere in California wishing it had this rain. Then he draws. Then he commutes. Then he showers because he did not shower in the morning and he smells like a homeless man he is sure this didn’t happen when he was younger when he was younger his musk was fragrant. He lies down. The desert approaches. He goes to sleep.
Appetite for Distraction – Another Day.
He wakes up. It is early. Chatter on the radio. Before sunrise it is cool. Then it rains. He showers. He has no deodorant. He does not look forward to later in the day when all of his pheromones will be filling the work environment, driving his colleagues wild. He will not be driving his colleagues wild. He has an egg sandwich and a coffee for breakfast. He looks down at his belly. It is distended and hairy. He needs to do even the most basic exercise. He knows that masturbation does not count as exercise. Even if he breaks a sweat doing it. Then there is a shooting in DC and there is a lock down and then the rest of the day is rumours and speculation and then the name of the shooter is revealed but even this may not be true and then his ex-wife asks him when he went all black power and he replies he has always, in some way, been black power. Then he misses his stop on the way home because he is reading a book about Europe then he thinks he probably has a stalker and that will teach him not to try and meet people online and then provide every piece of personal information including where he lives and where he works and all of his contact details and then when the interactions go sour there will be no let up no let up at all and every public tragedy and event is used as an excuse to contact him but still he ignores in the hope that it will stop but he rather fears it will not stop even as he is told that she is coming to the East Coast soon all too soon that will teach him to contact anyone on the internet for sordid things. He will probably not learn his lesson but he eats a bagel and reads a bit more about the depthless depravity of Europe and then he goes to sleep less worried than he might be.
lets all just appreciate these 25 seconds
Oh
The best news segway in the history of news segways.
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
lets all just appreciate these 25 seconds
Oh
The best news segway in the history of news segways.
(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
Culture of Illusion – The Stretched Twig of Peace is At Melting Point.
Sometimes, when I’m at work, it feels just like this:
Champing at the bit for explosions on the Korean peninsular today.
Culture of Illusion – I Give Up.
I don’t want to be a curmudeonly technophobe who keeps railing at everything he sees in the world but I just can’t help myself when I see things like this.
I can only assume that reality as I imagine it to be and reality as it is are two places that are never going to cross paths.
I’m going to make a cup of tea. For the rest of my life.
Culture of Illusion – One Day Your House Will Kill You.
Because they have nothing better to do at Microsoft these days they have designed The House of the Future:
The BBC went along to take a look. They were given a guided tour by the good people at Microsoft. I say good because I hope they are good because if they are not good then I think we’re screwed:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/technology-21632855
This House of the Future is a lazy persons wet dream:
- Unable to readjust your desk? Simply lurch towards it and it will reshape itself for your needs.
- Want to do some crafts? Don’t like pottery but want to do pottery? Why not take a premade piece of art and then scan it into your computer. After you’ve done that you can stand, alone in your room as, hands stretched out, you stroke the air reshaping a pot that you just scanned into your computer for no fucking reason at all. Doing real pottery is hard. Doing fake pottery is fun. Fake Pottery fun. Must eat.
- Don’t know what to have for dinner? Can’t remember recipes? Don’t have a recipe book? Forgotten how to speak? Simply hold food up to the screen and make ape like noises of sadness and hunger. Don’t worry dear creature, the computer recognises the food in your clenched paw and it will give you a list of recipes and then instructions on how to combine the foods together. It will watch impassively, recording every move you make, as you proceed to ruin the perfect recipe it set out for you. It will plot your destruction slowly, each human mistake you make adding fuel to its fire.
The next stage will have the robot spoon feeding you a mashed up slurry because by now all you will need is fuel to keep you going so that you can go to work and get enough money to get the loan that pays for the credit card that allows you to pretend that you own all this shit. You will have forgotten how to speak. You will have to be wiped and cleaned by the robot house, like a helpless baby, before it guides you into the travel tube that takes you directly to the cubicle that you rot in for the duration of your working day.
Clearly none of these people have watched Demonseed:
Why does my Doom Sensor feel like it’s on the verge of exploding? I always thought the Future was going to be better, but living in it now, I’m not so sure.
Must get some fresh air. You can buy that in cans now can’t you?
Fuck.
The SleepCoat League Presents: 